something wicked this way comes
by sanskrits
Summary: — Something is going on with the undead. Olympus Agency's Special Agent Nico di Angelo absolutely intends to find out what it is, and thus finds himself at the generic Riverside High School trying not to drown in a bigger mystery than he signed up for. / nico x will, au
1. Chapter 1

**a/n: so i have no idea what this is i just felt like writing a solangelo.**

 **also, shameless self-promo — check out** **querencia (** **forum/Querencia/207692/)** **, my PJO challenge forum! there are competitions, challenges, random prompts, and more. and i'm planning on keeping it active.**

 **this story contains solangelo if i was not obvious enough — it will be** _ **slow**_ **burn, so don't think solangelo is going to "feel the instant connection and the spark" in the first chapter because i really can't stand that kind of thing and i don't believe in love at first sight — there's** _ **attraction**_ **at first sight, but not** _ **love**_ **like "i would do anything for you" and "i would spend my life with you" at first sight. that just seems stupid.**

 **also, this takes place in modern times, as in 2017, because i'm too lazy to follow through on actual PJO timelines.**

 **self-promo and ranting aside, hope you enjoy! (all the goodies so much solangelo)**

 **(also i kind of capitalized the summary, be proud of me)**

 **so, i know exactly where this story is going, everything is outlined and i just need to write it — that being said, updates will hopefully be every friday, but i have school and am a little bit busy at the moment with beta reading and running querencia (again please check it out i would love it if you did) so bear with me**

. . .

Something is going on with the undead.

Nico di Angelo has always been able to sense these kinds of things; it's just the way he was born. It's not a thing he can _turn off_ — that sense of something, always pertaining to the dead, is just there.

He isn't quite sure if he likes that or not. His powers have always felt more curse than blessing to him.

This is how Nico knows that someone who is not him nor his father has been raising the dead — which should not be possible. Nico inherited his powers from his father. The line of the powers with shadows and darkness ends with him.

He points out as much to Chiron, the Director, who replies, "Ah, Nico...thank you for confirming my suspicions."

"Suspicions?" Nico wonders.

"Oh, yes. The _New York Times_ reports that various 'zombie corpses' have been found in Brooklyn. No connection between any of the victims. It seems random. Victims die almost weeks, months previously, and then their _fresh_ corpses are found later. This is definitely the work of someone with powers."

"And it is," confirms Nico. "They're just random dead people. Probably unburied, because too many people go in or around cemeteries not to notice that something's up. But why would someone just randomly kill people and reanimate them so that they can kill them again?"

"That is precisely what we are trying to find out — the Agency will have to send you in, you know that."

Nico is quite aware of the fact. When his father had somehow managed to get himself and Nico from 1940s Italy to 2010s United States, he had joined the covert Olympus Agency to keep himself safe from the bounty hunters on the trail of the di Angelo family. They'd taken Mother. And Bianca — it had been his fault, that time — he and Bianca had been walking down one of the rare few roads in Venice, and they'd been there. Dressed in all black, with identical scummy-looking faces.

"Hand yourselves over," one of them had rasped in a gravelly voice, speaking English their parents had forced them to learn, "and we'll make it quick, promise."

Bianca had kept her head high. " _No,_ " she told them in Italian. " _I will go down fighting._ "

Nico had cowered behind her. He'd been _so_ scared, afraid that this was the way he was going to die — in a Venice alley, unknown. Who would honor his memory? Who would remember Nico di Angelo in a few years?

"What are you saying?" the other asked.

" _You don't understand?_ " mocked Bianca. " _Too bad, honey. Shut up and we can make this quick."_

She had sassed them, but they had taken her. Nico could have used his powers. They hadn't been paying him any attention. But he hadn't. He'd ran. Nico had run and run and run home until he reached Hades di Angelo, and he was crying and telling him, " _They took Bianca_."

Hades had cried too, and then he had told Nico that they were going to come for them soon. " _It's just us now,_ " he'd said. " _So we need to get going, Nico._ "

He'd acquired a timepiece from someone shady — _Lotus_ had been engraved on it.

So Nico and Hades had found themselves here, and to keep themselves safe, had joined the Olympus Agency.

Nico frequently goes undercover for them. Just last year he'd helped take down the army that a man with powers over time — _Kronos,_ he'd called himself — assembled to try and take over the powered population.

Mostly, it had been Special Agent Perseus Jackson who'd done the work. But Nico and Hades had helped, summoning dead armies that couldn't be killed to match the hordes of other powered people fighting with Kronos.

Nico had gone with a man named Minos — he pretended to be lost and not in control of his powers, and Minos had taken the bait. Slowly, he'd drained Minos, an unnoticeable thing, and eventually he'd gotten a clear from someone on the other end of the comms — then he'd gotten rid of Minos. Nico's work was done, and he'd had somewhat of a name in the Agency ever since — the cruel one, the cold one, the one who could get the job done and find weaknesses and _kill_.

The thing about Nico is that he's very versatile — he's from the past, from another country, and that means they can send him anywhere and nobody will ever know who he truly is. And people tend to underestimate kids.

The Creator, the Leader of the Agency, Zeus, had told Nico when he joined up that these traits made him "very useful," but that if he "found a way to become useless, certain death" would be in store for him.

Nico is not very fond of Zeus.

Then again, he's not quite fond of most people — and this job is not something he's fond of either.

"What's the job?"

"You're not going to like this," says Chiron bluntly. "Not at all."

"Tell me, Director," Nico prompts.

"You'll be going in as a high school freshman at Riverside High."

" _High school freshman?_ " sputters Nico. "That's such a — that idea is so terrible."

"Bear with me," Chiron tells him with a grimace.

"The anomaly is near that place anyway," Nico concedes slowly, "but still. Must I go to _school?_ "

"It'd do you well not to complain. Kids tend to be the front of operations like these, and we don't know what organization is behind this."

"Ah, so I will be going to school," mutters Nico sourly. "Great."

. . .

Nico finds himself in an apartment — not too posh, not too dingy — its number is 6A, and he's really hoping he doesn't have those neighbors that knock on new arrivals' homes, all screeching, "Housewarming gift!" whilst holding roses and chocolates in a basket, assaulting the new arrival with the smell.

It is quite common on the television, which Nico sort of knows how to work. He's better with computers. The Agency has everyone take technology classes — Nico isn't a whiz like the other candidates, but he gets by.

Nico's ADHD is getting the better of him. He's not partial to his dyslexia either, but he has reading glasses for that, courtesy of the Agency's supernatural power people.

He closes the door behind him to find — gray. Not quite black, not quite white. Everything about the apartment is just gray. Nico finds he doesn't really mind it — perpetual black furniture and walls and _everything_ would just get a little too depressing, even for him.

Nico's stuff is already here, of course. The Agency had moved it for him when they'd given him the assignment.

He makes his way to the predictably gray bedroom, with predictably gray furniture, and _oh —_ there's a little bit of white in a notch there.

The closet is full of his clothes. The Agency uniform is a standard black top and sweatpants, and Nico doesn't really know what other colors to wear, or which ones go together, so he just sticks to black with black and an occasional splash of white or gray. So his wardrobe is very dark and colorless.

He contemplates just flopping on the bed and sleeping until dawn, but shuts the idea down. His first day at Riverside High is tomorrow, and really it's quite a generic name, especially since the high school isn't even _close_ to the Hudson.

There's a school bag on his desk — _Supplies,_ a note on it reads — all packed, again from the Agency.

So that leaves out Nico's preparations. He has literally been all set. Nothing's left for him to do.

For today, he allows himself to rest.

. . .

Riverside High School is as generic as Nico expects it to be. It's nothing special — a high building, two storeys at most, with a blue and white color theme. It seems watery and such, which is appropriate since the school is named for water.

He mills about, trying to find the office from his map that has an extremely small font size — even with his remedied dyslexia it's hard to read. Finally he notes that an enclosed hallway, almost entirely blue, near the front of the school, holds the office at its end.

"Hi," says Nico to the clerk, a woman who seems dispassionate. He hopes he sounds okay. Nico is _not_ good at socializing. "I'm Nico di Angelo, new student…would you happen to have my schedule?"

"Nico di Angelo?" the clerk repeats, filing through her papers, and withdrawing one with "Nico di Angelo" printed on a Post-It. "You'll probably have someone from the Everyone program to help you adjust to the school. Have a nice day."

Nico is clearly dismissed. Looking toward his schedule, and ripping off the Post-It, he walks

back toward the hallway and tries to find his Spanish class — Room 51 with _Gonzalez, D_ — but it's a difficult task due to the _stupid, stupid_ small font. Apparently there's supposed to be someone from this 'Everyone program,' whatever that is, to show him the ropes, but evidently there is no one here to do so. Riverside High seems exactly as Nico's first impression of it — the kind of school that promises but does not deliver.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts, and looks back at his schedule, then his map. He's locker 1109, and he's supposedly pretty close to 51 —

Then there's something crashing into him. It seems like a mass of yellow.

"Eugh," Nico groans.

"OhmygodsI'msosorryohmygoshareyouhurtohI'msosorry!" someone speaks rapid-fire, as if they're genuinely sorry but in a rush.

"Ahh — what did you just say?" Nico asks the ball of yellow, now revealed to be a very blond, sunshine-esque boy.

"Was I talking too fast?" asks the boy. "I'm so sorry, I'm in the Everyone program and I have to show someone around today, and I'm super late because I stayed up late finishing homework and I overslept and — _ah,_ I really have to stop rambling. Sorry." He sticks out a hand. Nico is flabbergasted, because this boy has a very long-winded explanation that takes him a moment to process, and _he's actually sticking his hand out to him?_ Like a gesture of friendship? Nico tentatively takes the hand, waiting to see if he's being pranked. Because this boy is too good to be true, an envisage of sunshine and rainbows and nice things, and Nico's that antisocial kid who'd be classed as emo. This boy is perfect, too much so, and there has to be something flawed about him — clearly it should be his personality.

Is Nico reading too much into things?

"I'm Will Solace," the now named sunshine boy continues.  
"Nico di Angelo," Nico mutters. What is it about this boy that's so — so _bright?_ So wonderful? It's baffling, and Nico doesn't know if he likes it.

"Oh!" Will's face brightens. "You're the one I have to show around — _oh my gosh,_ I totally just left you hanging, didn't I?"

"It's fine," Nico assures him quickly. "I got around just fine — actually the print on the map is small as hell, but I can manage if you have other things —"

"— Hell _no!_ I signed up for this and I didn't deliver and you seem so nice so it's only fair that I deliver," interrupts Will.

"Uh, sure," Nico agrees.

Will seems perky, bubbly, _happy_ , so unlike Nico. He decides it's a nice change, to have friends who actually aren't from the agency, who don't have powers, and who aren't trained in deadly combat.

Take Jason Grace, for example. He's Jupiter's son — Jupiter being Zeus's twin. The Twenty-Four Olympians, the runners of the agency, all have twins, for some reason. It's probably because of their powers. Jason has a sister, Thalia, who's Zeus's daughter — it's a terrible thing, because Zeus and Jupiter had kids with the same woman, Beryl Grace. Their family dynamic is slightly strained and _highly_ awkward.

"So, what's your first class?" asks Will, jolting Nico out of his thoughts.

"Spanish, 51, Gonzalez, D," Nico replies promptly.

"Well, that was specific. Also, good luck — I had Gonzalez last year, and _boy,_ it was a pain. I'm also a sophomore, if it wasn't evident by how I know this school — like, I like helping people, I do, but the Everyone program just kind of looks _great_ on college apps, so — and I don't even think you know what the Everyone program even is, do you? We basically just help freshmen and new students adjust to the school, we help out the Student Council — run-of-the-mill stuff like that," rambles Will.

"Um, thanks…?" says Nico, unsure of himself, but grateful to have a friend nonetheless.

He tries his best to ignore that bright, beaming smile Will sends him as he ducks into Spanish class and begins the school day.

(He tries, he really does, but he fails.)

. . .

Nico is not really looking forward to his other classes. Spanish is alright because Nico's fluent in Italian which is quite similar to Spanish, but with ADHD, everything to do with school is much more nightmarish than it should be.

Math class is probably Nico's best subject; he can work just fine with numbers, which consequently makes him quite good at Biology as well, because Math and Science go hand in hand (also, Nico kind of spends a lot of time with skeletons…), but P.E. is just _not_ Nico's style. Neither is English class — it's not up his alley and not his first language either. He can read it and write it just fine, but everything he does is just so bland and emotionless. History is okay because Nico practically _is_ history.

Nico definitely isn't a 4.0 student, but he's not a 2.0 student either, so it's just fine. It's not as if his worries actually consist of getting into Harvard or anything.

At lunch, Will somehow finds him right outside of the Bio classroom (109) — probably since he's got a copy of Nico's schedule — and leads him to his friends.

"You can sit with us at lunch, I'll introduce you to everyone…" he tells Nico.

They make their way to a small table in the corner of the cafeteria after getting their lunches. Nico contemplates throwing the very modest looking burger away, but doesn't in the end because he needs food, after all.

There are quite a few people at the table. It's then that it hits Nico — this job will require him to _socialize,_ display slightly extroverted tendencies — the bias does exist, and people who prefer alone time are apparently more susceptible to bullying. Nico's going to have to bring on full game for this job and hopefully get to the bottom of the undead mystery _soon_ so that he can get the hell out of high school.

There are six people already at the table: a girl with dark hair and green eyes, a blond boy with elfish turned-up features, a dark-skinned short girl with frizzy hair and golden-amber eyes, a burly-looking Asian boy, a ginger, blue eyed girl with a strip of her locks dyed green, and an African-American boy with dark DNA double-helix cornrows.

"Uh — hi," Nico introduces himself lamely. "I'm Nico di Angelo, new student, and, uhm...hi."

Nico rolls his eyes at himself, inwardly. _Great at this socializing thing, aren't you?_ he asks himself deprecatingly.

Will laughs, and a few of the table's occupants release chuckles.

"I'm awkward, if you can't tell," continues Nico in an effort to save face.

"Don't worry," says the green-eyed girl. "I'm Lou Ellen, nice to meet you."

"I'm Cecil," the blond elf tells him. "Um...I'm awkward, too? And I'm also an extreme mess, so — yeah."

Nico laughs at that. "I think we'll get along just dandy, Cecil."

They start introducing themselves in a circle, then.

The girl with the golden eyes is Hazel Levesque. There's something odd about her — maybe it's the eyes, maybe it's the unsettling stiffness of her gait, Nico doesn't know. He can't tell if her oddness is a good or a bad thing.

The Asian boy is Frank Zhang.

"Don't worry, he's a total softie," Will tells him conspiratorially.

The ginger is Kayla Knowles, apparently Will's half sister.

"We have the same eyes. That's about it," explains Kayla.

And the boy with the cornrows is Austin Lake, also a half-sibling of Will and Kayla.

"Don't ask," they say simultaneously. "Our dad got around a lot when he was younger."

"Clearly," Nico comments, but says nothing more.

"Yeah, family reunions are _real_ messy…" Will mutters, "but enough of that. Um — I guess we should, um, break the ice…?"

"That sounds like a great idea!" says Nico with too much false enthusiasm.

"I'll start," Frank offers. "Uhm — er, favorite color?"

"Yellow!" Will chimes immediately.

"Black," says Nico, unsure of what else to say. Black is pretty much all he wears, anyway.

"Predictably emo," snorts Lou Ellen, rolling her eyes. "I like... _purple._ "

"I 'dunno, red, maybe?" asks Cecil.

"Green," Kayla points out.

"Obviously," Will says. "Not that the hair's an indicator, of course." Kayla shoots him a withering look. Will maturely sticks out his tongue.

"Blue," Frank offers.

Hazel looks contemplative, but then says, "White. Like, off-white, you know?"

"Mmmhmm," hums Will appreciatively. "Classy."

"Classy is overrated — no offense," Lou Ellen adds.

"How about...least favorite class?" asks Nico.

"Oh, this _one!_ " screeches Kayla. "Band. _Band._ I love band, but Mr. Wilkins...I can't. I just can't." She raises her hands in defeat.

"Ew, I know," Will grimaces. "Mr. Wilkins is a _pig._ "

"Gross," scowls Austin, shuddering to add emphasis to his point.

"What do I hate?" Frank asks them. "Well — _Latin._ Why the heck did I even take that class? _Why?_ I need to go to my freshman self and screech at him to stop being an idiot and take something easy instead…"

Hazel snorts, adding, "Physics. How do you expect me to do math _outside of math class?_ Sorry, I didn't sign up for two math classes."

"I hate sculpture. I'd drop it if not for the required art credits," Lou Ellen gripes.

"Oh gosh, _culinary arts._ The class isn't all that bad," Cecil explains, "I just keep on burning the food."

"I hate P.E." Nico looks around at the group, surprised at their incredulous looks. "What?"  
"You look like the kind of person who _loves_ P.E.," says Lou finally. "I mean, like, you find it fun."

"I don't, probably because I'm really not fit. And I'm probably that kid you pick last for your team..."

It feels nice, Nico decides, to have something resembling _friends._

. . .

It goes south soon enough, but these kinds of things usually do.

There's a boy, rather average looking, brown hair, green eyes glinting maliciously — he saunters up to Nico's locker and says, "So _you're_ the new kid?"

"Yes, I am," Nico replies, turning to face him. "And what's it to you?"

The boy sneers. "Nothing. You just look like a little 'freshie runt. And you've got a mouth on you, too...we'll just have to see about that, won't we?" He cracks his knuckles in what is evidently supposed to be a menacing manner — Nico is unimpressed. He's the Special Agent that killed _Minos_ ; yeah, it haunts him still, but it does give him strength to face little craps like these.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" deadpans Nico.

The boy cocks his head to the side, looking at Nico in a most peculiar manner. "Who even are you, new kid?" Nico notes he's avoiding the question.

"Nico di Angelo. Who're you?"

"Bryce, Bryce _Lawrence._ " Bryce emphasizes the _Lawrence_ as if to say, _My family's important._

"You act like I'm supposed to care that your last name is Lawrence," Nico tells him bluntly. Bryce Lawrence seems _very_ mediocre, the kind of guy who peaks in high school and doesn't get over it.

Lawrence turns a splotchy shade of red, and Nico decides to give it a go, riskily taunting, "What, embarrassed I'm not bowing at your feet?"

It's the wrong move to make, but Nico just can't help himself; this little idiot is such a show-off that he just can't resist pegging him down a little.

It comes at a price — Lawrence goes even more red, and shoves Nico against his locker.

He whispers, "Think you're all that, di Angelo? You're little freshman scum...and you have that mouth of yours that just doesn't know when to shut up." Nico glares up at the taller boy from his more vulnerable position, but he makes no move — it wouldn't be a wise course of action to beat him to a pulp the way he wants to. It'd only attract more attention — attention that Nico already has. "I guess," Lawrence continues after a pause, "I'll be the one to teach it manners."

"Manners you've got, apparently," Nico fires back.

Lawrence presses Nico's wrists harder on the locker, not enough force to push him, but enough to send the message across. "See my point? I say lessons start tomorrow...so watch your back, little freshman."

He walks off. Nico rubs his wrists, and looks contemplatively at the back of Bryce Lawrence, wondering.

The way he'd handled Nico was not typical high school jock. No, it was much more precise, and even in the face of anger…

 _Who is this Lawrence character, really?_ Nico asks himself. He doesn't have the answer.

But he will — he will.

. . .

School lets out soon enough and Nico decides he needs to get closer to the oddity; first, he returns to the apartment, walking rather than shadow-traveling in order to conserve energy, to deposit his backpack and school supplies.

Then he makes his way to the closet, and withdraws a long, black box from its depths — he'd known he could count on the Agency to leave it here for him.

Tentatively, he opens it, and reveals an ivory-colored staff with a dark marble sphere nestled by three regal-appearing golden eagles, and a solid black globe on the top. The Scepter.

It's nostalgia. Nico hopes he won't need it, and it's not exactly inconspicuous to keep carrying around. Luckily, he has a free storage space.

He opens a portal from the shadows and stores the Scepter in it.

Now it's time to track the oddity.

. . .

His search takes him to a graveyard.

Nico weaves through the graves. Death is rampant in the area, which is, of course, quite fitting.

There's nothing, nothing, and then a flicker of _something_ as he passes by a particularly ostentatious grave. The something grows stronger the closer Nico gets to it.

It's a big, white stone, weathered slightly but still quite readable — there are small specks of gold embedded in the large semicircle and there is a crown shape on top of the name, _QUEEN MARIE,_ engraved on it. _1909 — 1942_ , the lifespan reads.

 _Death does not stop the committed_ is the tagline. It's odd.

And yet, who is — _was_ — Queen Marie? Nico highly doubts the woman was actually named Queen Marie in her lifetime, but perhaps this is a vagueness.

Briefly he feels a little pang in his chest. Nico's mother's name had been _Maria._ He doesn't miss her so much as the idea of her, the idea that someone was out there looking out for him simply because he existed.

But there is no point in reminiscing on what-could-have-beens. The point is that what could have been was not, and so it's necessary to move on, to pull through and stick with what is.

Blinking away his thoughts, Nico squints at the grave.

Why is there something special about this one? It's flamboyant, yes, but all the graves of the wealthy are.

He moves closer to the stone. Nico looks at it. The gold isn't the only metal in the stone, but it's the most visible one. There are specks of silvery-looking elements as well as something dark black, in moderation but clearly visible from where he stands.

What is it about this stone? The gold, the metals…

Nico traces the letters one by one. _Q-U-E-E-N-M-A-R-I-E._

There is something odd about the grave, he decides. He just can't figure out what it is. Nico takes a look at the dates. _1909 — 1942._

The _1940s._ That's what it is…

...Is it?

He draws his eyes to the tagline, the thing that makes the grave unique. _Death does not stop the committed._ It makes him uneasy.

 _Death does not stop the committed._ What had Queen Marie been committed to? What was her cause — did it still exist? If it did...then what makes that cause memorable? What about that cause is so important that Queen Marie remains committed to it even in Death...in a state of _un_ death?

There is something about this grave, now. And Nico absolutely intends to find out what.


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n: oh, finally,** _ **reputation**_ **is on spotify and i am living for it (** _ **delicate**_ **is my fave)**

 **also don't mind all the spanish this is just me sort of trying to practice even though we're way ahead of all this stuff irl**

. . .

Nico returns home with nothing conclusive but his resolve.

He tries to envision the grave in his mind, anything unusual about it, but all he can think of is the name and the tagline: _QUEEN MARIE; Death does not stop the committed._

There's nothing but his mind's eye and there's nothing to do about that, either. So Nico goes to school the next day and the next and the next, and he sits through all his classes.

Spanish is at the really preliminary lesson-stage. They learn basic phrases like ¿ _Cόmo estás?_ and _¿Quién es?_ Gonzalez is very clear what she expects out of the class and very clear that her tests and curriculum will be challenging. Nico doesn't really like it, but is a little heartened by the idea of a challenge. He's looking forward to showing his teacher what he can do.

Math is just basic review of algebraic concepts. _Y = mx + b, y = Ax + By_ , point-slope form, and in general, a whole lot of _slope._ The Agency had taught him American school curriculum at an accelerated pace — he'd done all of this in seventh grade. It's kind of annoying, and Mr. Matthews does not help matters.

His teacher is _really_ boring. He's kind of a genius, but he has the most monotone voice and Nico just cannot listen to anything he says for more than two minutes. And the worst part of that is the fact that the teacher gives really good advice, no matter how cranky he is.

Then he has History. Nico _really_ hates U.S. History. It's not about the teacher or anything. It's just that _damn,_ the subject is boring. To Mrs. Johnson's credit, though, she makes the subject seem a little fun with her blunt nature and sarcastic commentary.

Then there's Biology. Nico is pretty good at the subject. He hates the teacher, though. She's vague, and she's mean and condescending. They go over a few classroom policies and they also start a few basic biology concepts: the different cells and their parts.

At lunch he meets Will and the gang of friends. He can connect with Hazel over their mutual dislike of the same things: the Biology teacher, the U.S. History subject, the hardships of being freshmen in a group of upperclassmen. It's not as if they treat them badly, it's more of a "You're younger and inexperienced" kind of thing.

Will doesn't do that, though. He's kind of cute, actually, with his nerdy comments and laid-back demeanor most of the time; Nico's discovered from their chats that when he stumbles onto something he's passionate about, he has _no chill._ Especially when it comes to music and the arts.

He goes on _tirades_ , ranting about his nasty Music teacher: "Okay, so he doesn't even _teach_ and when he does, it's in an extremely sexist and douchey way! Like, this is school, people can at least save their bigotry for their homes! And he can't even do the scales properly...how is he a teacher when his students have to constantly correct him! Mr. Wilkins is just — _ugh!_ "

To be fair, they _are_ valid reasons.

Nico returns to the grave for a few days; he finds nothing. Scowling, he returns home each day to the homework he's assigned, a hindrance to the mission but a necessary evil.

The next day — it's Wednesday — Bryce Lawrence finds him at his locker again, this time before school, accompanied by a scruffy blond who seems overly full of himself.

"This is the runt," he tells the blond. The blond boy smirks.

"So _he's_ the little idiot…" he muses. "Well, what a shame. He's not bad-looking." The blond squints at Nico. "I'm Octavian. And you are — Nico di Angelo. And you are — a dead man." He smirks, and then lunges at Nico.

Nico sidesteps, narrowly missing Octavian's punch. His locker takes the brunt of it, denting slightly. Octavian scowls, hissing, but he doesn't flap his hand or screech. Nico can't honestly say he's surprised.

There are some onlookers, but there's no one actually _doing_ anything. How disgusting is it that everyone would look but no one would talk?

 _It's nothing new,_ he tells himself. _People aren't good._ He knows this already — it's just the way people are. Everyone's in it for themselves, but for some reason it just hurts today — because how can a crowd of _so many people_ just leave him like this, even if he can take care of himself?

Nico shakes his feelings away as Bryce comes for him. He again slides away to a side, as Bryce skids on his shoes and drives himself after Nico again, as Octavian joins in the fun.

"Come on, little runt. Can't keep hiding, can you?"

Nico shrugs. "Watch me."

And then there's the bell: it makes a trilling sound, and everyone seems to pause for a moment before the crowds disperse, making their way to their respective classes.

Bryce and Octavian throw matching sneers at Nico.

Octavian gesticulates between them. "We're not done, runt."

"I didn't expect you to be."

"Saved by the bell," comments Lawrence lightly, and he walks away with his blond companion, snickering.

Nico scowls after them, but then makes himself get to Spanish class.

He worries his lower lip in thought as he drifts through the hallway: neither Bryce nor Octavian had acted in the way typical high-school bullies did. The boys were way too controlled, too restrained.

There's something off about this whole situation.

And Nico's resolve to find out what's going on is only growing.

. . .

"Quite a few of you seem not to be grasping the pronunciation rules," Gonzalez tells the class. "So we'll be going over it. Again. Until you get it." Everyone in the classroom lets out a deep, collective sigh. She's always insistent on making sure the class gets the concepts. " _Repitan, por favor_ — the vowels each have _one_ sound — _a_ like _aah, e_ like _eh_ , _i_ like _eeh_ , _o_ like _oh,_ and _u_ like _ooh._ "

"The vowels each have _one_ sound — _a_ like _ahh, e_ like _eh, i_ like _eeh, o_ like _oh_ , and _u_ like _ooh,_ " everyone recites dispassionately. Miss Gonzalez narrows her eyes at them, but continues.  
"There are certain combining sounds as well — _ch_ like _che, ll_ like _ehye,_ and _rr_ like _errre._ Roll the tongue."

"There are certain combining sounds as well…" mutters the class.

" _H_ is a silent letter and _j_ is pronounced like _heh…_ "

. . .

Lunch rolls around and Will's outside his Bio class, bouncing on his heels.

When Nico finds his way out of the door, Will kind-of-sort-of-completely explodes.

"What the _hell?_ You're here a week and already you're fighting with _Bryce Lawrence and Octavian?_ How are you not dead? And relatively unscathed at that?"

"Chill, Will." Nico scowls at his own slang. "They just tried to get me, bully the 'little freshie runt' or whatever. Doesn't matter anyway, I kept dodging them while they just kind of barrelled after me." Will frowns.

"You're not hurt, are you?"

"The only punch was taken by my poor locker."

Will still narrows his eyes at Nico. "I'll hold you to that. Wait up." He steers Nico toward the front of the boys' bathrooms. Then he looks at Nico with his ever-narrowed eyes, inspecting his pale skin for injuries.

Nico finds it a little bit cute, and that scrunched-up look Will's got going on there is pretty adorable as well.

 _No,_ he tells himself firmly. _It's not cute — just attra — no. It's just normal. I'm_ not _attracted to Will, not in the least, not at all, what do you mean, inner voice, I am not attracted to him at all —_

"Nico, you alright?" asks Will, looking worriedly at him, and interrupting his train of thought.

"Hmm? Oh, fine," Nico mutters, "just thinking."

"Well, stop thinking. We need to eat."

"Yeah, yeah."

Nico makes his way with Will to the lunch table, where everyone simultaneously erupts as they walk up.

"Okay, so word on the street is you survived Octavian and Bryce this morning and actually taunted them and everything, spill it, spill it, spill it," commands Lou Ellen authoritatively.

"So basically," explains Nico, "they kind of ambushed — well, not really — but they found me at my locker and tried to beat me up but I kept dodging them and they kind of got really mad that they weren't able to beat up the 'little freshie runt.'"

"Are you alright?" asks Hazel. There's something like — is that guilt? — shining in her worried eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine — my locker _is not,_ however. That's what I'm _really_ pissed about." A half-truth. He's actually pissed that he can't figure out the _QUEEN MARIE_ mystery and then there's the oddness of Bryce and Octavian, how clearly their professionalism was masked behind their angry high-schooler façades. There is something going on in this school, and Nico needs to find out what, except there is _no proof._ Not even a smidgen of evidence. And that is what really pisses him off.

"No," Hazel insists. "But really. You're fine, right?" She seems as if she's trying to convince herself of something, as if she _needs_ to make sure that Nico's alright. And why even is that? She's barely known Nico for a week.

In fact, everyone here's known Nico for a week. And they're so caring for him — somehow, that warms his heart more than he'd care to admit. This group of people barely even knows him, and yet they stand by his side even if it'd mean going across Bryce Lawrence and his compatriot Octavian.

 _You don't know that,_ whispers a niggling little sense of doubt in his head. _They make you think they're concerned, but when the time comes, they'll gang up on you...you're going soft, Nico..._

 _Shut up,_ Nico tells it, trying, trying to deny. But the voice has a point.

Frank thankfully adds to Hazel's point and stacks up Nico's internal argument in — his? — favor. "No, really, she has a point," he tells Nico. "You seem so cool about this whole thing, I mean, really. You're alright —"

"— Right?" Hazel cuts in.

"Yes, guys. "I'm fine. They didn't land a scratch on me. And Will can testify to that, right?" Nico looks pointedly at the aforementioned Will.

"Well, nothing that I know of," replies Will. "I mean, he could be _hiding_ something...just kidding," he jokes. "Hopefully," he adds after a moment.

Everyone laughs at that, Nico included. It's refreshing, this moment, one of happiness and lightness even in the face of a bully's attack.

 _They're buttering you up...they'll feed you and fatten you and slow you and then kill you,_ that little voice hisses.

 _You don't know that,_ Nico tells it back.

. . .

The next day, before school right outside the hallway (which is in an inconspicuous niche, to Nico's luck), they're back. Unfortunately, they bring more people. Nico thinks one of their names is Dakota, who looks extremely dispassionate about the whole thing, and rather reluctant, too.

"Thought you got away, did you?" Bryce asks him, phrased as a question but really a statement.

Octavian sneers, but then nods, a minute thing. The group of about 5 people, excluding Bryce and Octavian, begins, then, lunging at him.

Nico tries to dodge, to sidestep them, but to no avail. There are so many. He gets around Bryce and Octavian, but there's a burly boy with a gap between his teeth and an ugly, long nose with a scowl to boot, and he gets the first punch.

Nico is pushed backward from the force, and there's someone at his back, kicking him, hurtling him forward again.

Octavian pushes the rest over and struts toward Nico, smirking.

"Let's go, little runt."

Then he descends upon Nico, punching with his fists in that calm, clear way, not getting carried away like only the trained can do, and Nico can feel the pain, feel that feeling of _crap_ , and then it's just —

 _What are you doing?_

Why isn't he fighting back?

Nico kicks a leg in the air, hoping to get Octavian or Bryce or _someone,_ but instead he finds himself flailing simply, as the punches land upon him and land and land and _oh, look, there's another —_

He throws up a hand this time, praying to anyone that he gets a clear shot, but to nothing but a waste of energy.

There are some kicks from others thrown in the mix again, and more sharp throbbing blooms all over Nico's body, and he's probably bruised all over with a black eye.

He can't see anything but that _smug, smug smirk_ on Octavian's face and it's driving him nuts —

But then it registers: there's something that he can see, and that's the smug smirk of Octavian's face.

With steely resolve Nico lifts his fist and throws his force behind it in the way that the Agency taught him to, and he _punches._

"Get off me, you creep."

Octavian rears, scowling and hissing due to the pain. Nico hoists himself up with a hiss of his own.

"'Wanna go again?" he's slurring a little bit, belatedly realizing there's some kind of liquid sloshing in his mouth — _blood._

He _has_ gone soft. He's allowed himself to take this hit.

But there _is_ that black eye on Octavian, and maybe that makes it a little bit better.

(Not that much, though. Nico still hates himself for that blood in his mouth.)

. . .

So Nico stumbles to his locker _way_ later than the bell, having limped all the way and scowling when he needed to stop.

Surprisingly, Will's waiting there, standing with a worried look on his face.

"Nico!" he cries when he sees him. "I thought you took the day off, but then I thought they'd gotten to you and I didn't know where you were so I decided here was the safest bet, and that I'd just be late — and _oh, you're bleeding!_ "

"Will — oh, it hurts —"

"We need to get you to the nurse, oh my gosh, did they do this to you?"

"I got Octavian in the eye," Nico placates him. "I decked the smug little bastard right in the face."

Will whistles appreciatively, but there's something in its baritones, an uneasiness. "Nice. But — really, you need medical attention — I mean, I kind of know about medical attention, seeing as how I want to be a surgeon, but this is nurse-grade stuff."

"Yeah, yeah, Solace. Just help me get there. And make sure you get a late pass. You took too much trouble for me."

"Anything for a friend," he replies sincerely. "And I would've paid good money to see that punch."

 _Anything for a friend..._ so they're friends now?

Nico doesn't think he minds that, actually.

. . .

They end up at the nurses' and she asks them what happened — Will tells her about Octavian and Bryce and then she just shakes her head, sadly.

"There's not much I can do about them. They have money, see. They get off _scot-free,_ all the time...you know how many students I get in here because of them?"

Will swallows, and Nico scowls at the ground.  
"What a bunch of —" Nico's about to start using some very colorful expletives, but then Will cuts him off, asking the nurse, "Is he going to be all right?"

"Yes," she answers. Then she turns to Nico. "You're just a bit bruised, and you'll have that limp for a while, but otherwise you'll be fine."

"Thank you," Nico says gratefully.

"Just doing my job," replies the nurse. "You should go home, and your good friend here needs a late pass."

Nico is mad at himself for getting into this situation in the first place, for getting so roughed up.

He tries to tell himself he got upped because of the numbers — one against seven was hardly fair — that it was beneficial for him so he looks more helpless and less spy-like and suspicious, but that doesn't make it any less shameful.

. . .

The next day Nico limps with some Agency-courtesy crutches all throughout school (he'd called Chiron for them, and he could practically see his endearing shake of the head and worry at _Trouble already?_ ), and he can see Octavian and Bryce smirking at him in the halls; they don't make a move, but Nico gestures to his left eye — Octavian's blackened one — and smiles thinly, telling him, _Remember that?_

The smirks turn into scowls after that, but none of them try to hurt Nico or even taunt him. The gang seems satisfied, so Nico will leave it at that.

At lunch everyone tries to ensure he's okay and Nico thinks he can sometimes spot Hazel staring guiltily at him, as if the fact that he's hurt is her fault, which is absolutely ridiculous.

Cecil even brings him some burnt lasagna with a _Heal soon, this recipe is from Culinary Arts class_ note. It tastes terrible, but Nico loves the gesture.

So, yeah — it gets worse before it gets better, but that grave mystery isn't going to solve itself, so Nico will limp over to Queen Marie's grave and find out what's going on here — whatever it takes.


	3. Chapter 3

**a/n: this is where things get** _ **damn**_ **serious. i don't want to spoil anything, but there is potentially gory description in this chap, so — fair warning.**

 **this is, again, for** _ **querencia,**_ **and the link is on my profile — it'd mean a lot to me if you'd check it out!**

 **(also all the spanish stuff — i do that. the class gets to me.)**

. . .

For all Nico's inner monologue about _limping to Queen Marie's grave_ and _whatever it takes_ — yeah, no, that doesn't actually happen.

What does happen is a hell of a lot of stewing and introspection. And eating burnt lasagna, but that's irrelevant to the matter at hand.

Nico does so much stewing he actually gets a notebook — _el cuaderno,_ he practices for Spanish class, and then curses himself for falling so deep into it — and in it he jots down all the things that happen and the things that don't add up and the things that are suspicious.

— _Hazel acting guilty every time she sees my crutches. ?_

— _Gravestone unchanged, still sensing. ?_

Basically, Nico is going crazy and scribbles a ton of crap in this notebook.

— _Trained Octavian/Lawrence. ?_

— _More bodies dropping. Connections to oddity at Q.M.?_

Shaking his head at his latest entry, Nico blinks, and finds his way to the fridge.

Silently, he thanks whatever gods exist for cup noodles and his limited skill in cooking Italian food. Nico warms up some water and, after it boils for a while, pours it into the noodle cup.

He stirs, and adds the spice mix in — soon, the aroma of fresh, store-bought, artificially flavored and MSG-filled noodles permeates the air. Nico revels in its unhealthiness.

Eating, he ponders.

There is something going on in this city. But what?

. . .

Halloween's nearing. The Student Council makes up some terrible-looking, _very orange_ posters advertising the annual Haunted House, claiming it's "the creepiest thing all year" and "the event to go to."

Nico highly doubts that. If anything, it would be lackluster and not creepy or scary in any capacity, the kind of thing people would go to only to socialize.

The promotions just get sickening after a while, and everyone knows it.

At lunch, Nico's group of friends(?) lets it out. Everything.

Cecil complains, "Can I go one second without seeing orange in the hallways?"

"Student Council needs to simmer the hell down," mutters Lou.

Hazel grimaces. "It's nasty. It doesn't look like anyone's going to go. I don't want to. I am _tired_ of the crap in my face everyday."

"Preach it," Will agrees. "I'm over it."

"Who cares?" Nico says. "I can't wait for Halloween to be over so that I can _finally_ stop seeing all this crap about 'What's your Halloween costume?'"

"I hate Halloween season in general," Austin tells him. "It's a drag and it's boring, and the free candy is nice, but like — really. It's so _American._ "

"This is how we do it here in ' _Murica,_ " Will says in an extremely affected Southern accent.

Nico snickers a bit. "Can't relate. I'm Italian by birth — a citizen, of course, but _traditionally,_ I come from _Italia_." He smirks. "Enjoy your free ' _Murican_ candy."

. . .

Nico stares at the grave in silence.

 _QUEEN MARIE_

 _1909 — 1942_

 _Death does not stop the committed._

A shiver of unease passes through him as he looks at the stone, memorizing its off-white shade and the little specks of gold and silver and another deep-black metal embedded in it.

 _Queen Marie…_ who is — was — she?

. . .

As the weeks pass by, it's _finally_ October 31. Finally, the orange-decked halls would leave and hopefully never come back.

Nico strolls — rather, he limps, _with grace_ — into the hallway.

It's still orange. He grimaces, and considers ripping the posters off. He doesn't, in the end, but the idea is tempting.

Nico feels an odd flare of something in his gut. Scowling, he tries to shake off the feeling, and goes to meet Will and Hazel.

He finds them at their respective lockers after getting his own things. Their morning classes are in the same wing, so they walk together to them and chat before school.

"I'm debating ripping off the posters," Nico confesses. He then gets another idea, and adds as an afterthought, "Or maybe defacing them with a better color."

"Haven't we all?" Will mutters under his breath.  
That weird, nagging flash of a _something_ rears its head again, and Nico wonders what exactly it is; it's getting stronger and harder to ignore.

Hazel's about to speak, but she's cut off by a shrill scream coming from the direction of the Chemistry Lab — room 52, right next to Gonzalez's class.

"Oh — oh, my God!" a girl is shrieking. "I think — that's a _dead body!"_

 _A dead body?_ Nico wonders. _Is that what the sense was about?_

" _What the —"_ Hazel's eyes are wide, fearful, and a little disbelieving.  
"Halloween prank?" suggests Will, a little weakly, voice quivering with fear.

"Let's go — take a look," Nico offers, thinking, _No way they murdered a kid…_

But they find the lifeless body of a boy about their age — a shaved head and green eyes, frozen in a glazed, nervous expression. He's slumped right outside the Chem Lab's door, a knife sticking out of his torso and his blood seeping out onto the floor.

"No — no. It's just — just a great prank, isn't it?" Hazel whispers quietly, unable to stop looking at the corpse. Her voice shakes as she speaks.

"It has to be," says Will, looking pale. "It has to be."

The girl from before who'd shrieked looks at them with eyes deep blue and _so scared._

What kind of a maniac drops a knife in a teen?

 _A desperate one,_ Nico answers his own question.

"Do — d'you know...what his name is — _was?_ " Nico asks.

"Butch," replies Hazel, looking solemn. "Butch Walker. And he's _alive._ He is." She looks determined, as if _He must be alive, he has to be._

"Butch?" Will walks up to the body, waving a hand in front of it. "Nice prank, but it's _really_ not funny. You can wake up now and stop scaring us!"

There's no response. The feeling in his gut is still there — he's dead for sure.

Nico puts two fingers to the neck of the late Butch Walker and still feels for a pulse.

"No pulse. He — he's dead…" Nico murmurs, not quite believing it. This boy was innocent. And now he's dead.

Hazel puts a hand to her mouth, and Will's eyes fill with tears.

"No — no…" she mutters.

"It can't — he _can't_ be _dead…_ " Will denies.

The girl in the corner lets out a gasp, saying, "Oh, dear Lord...oh, dear Lord…"

"Did — did you know him?" Nico wonders.

"In passing," says Will.

"Acquaintances, kind of," Hazel confirms. "But — oh, my gosh, he's _dead._ He's — dead." The news seems to seep into her bones, permeating her being. "We need to get a teacher."

Nico walks toward the room next to 52, raps on the door, and shouts, "Miss Gonzalez! We need your help!"

. . .

Gonzalez is terribly shaken by the body in the hallway, and eventually a crowd gathers around Butch. Soon enough, the area has to be cordoned off and some officials in white arrive to take him away, draping a white cover over the body.

Classes are unofficially cancelled, because _there's a damn dead body in the hallway._ Who in their right mind goes to classes when something like _that_ happens?

They end up just sitting in their first-period classes until the lunch bell rings, and then, Miss Gonzalez says, "Well, you have to eat." She waves them off. " _Hasta mañana._ "

Nico finds his way to the cafeteria wherein Will, Hazel, Lou, Cecil, Kayla, Frank, and Austin are all seated before him, whispering fervently amongst themselves.

"Nico," beckons Kayla. "Sit down."

"I still can't believe it," says Frank. "I can't believe he's...he's —"

"— Dead," finishes Lou somberly. "This is some messed up crap over here. Who st — stabs an innocent teenager?"

The whole thing instills fear and suspicion in Nico. Fear that any one of these kids could be next; suspicion because of the recent newer deaths and fresh bodies returning.

"A psychopath," Austin answers grimly. "A complete, utter, murdering _psycho._ "

"This entire thing is just — just really disturbing," Cecil points out, paranoia in his voice. "It was _clearly_ a m — murder, B — Butch was stabbed and all...right at this school...like, how safe are we in our own high school? What if it's one of _us_ next? What if this creep doesn't stop?"

An involuntary shudder passes through the group.

Nico isn't a civilian, so he's not as worried and can handle himself, but Cecil isn't wrong: what if it _is_ one of them next? What would they be able to do against a professional killer? And even if nothing happens at school…

...Are they even safe in their own homes?

The ominous thought creeps into Nico's mind before he can stop it, and then there's that little nagging in his head again, a part of him saying, _No one is safe...this is just the beginning. You need to tread cautiously, Nico, because if you don't — this won't be the last death._

. . .

— _Butch Walker dead. ?_

— _Murder of Butch Walker. Ordinary high schooler. Why?_

— _Connection to the 'zombie deaths?'_

— _Who murdered him? Desperate. ?_

. . .

Nico keeps checking the news for any sign of Butch appearing anywhere. Nothing surfaces, but Nico's room is soon cluttered with newspapers, clippings, and a cork board where the most significant headlines are kept.

He now uses the extra bedroom as a study to do his homework and other activities. It's still annoying to do, but Nico makes sure to keep his grades up and keep time for the mystery solving.

A few notable headlines make their way onto the board: _HIGH SCHOOL SOPHOMORE FOUND MURDERED IN THE SCHOOL HALLWAY; RIVERSIDE HIGH SCHOOL FACING BACKLASH FOR THE MURDER OF BUTCH WALKER; BUTCH WALKER: AN OBITUARY._

Nico doesn't return to the grave. If Butch's murderer is linked to the grave's oddity, he doesn't want to risk getting noticed by a potential killer.

There's nothing, nothing, still nothing, but Nico persists.

. . .

A few weeks after the death, Octavian and Lawrence are back, but they don't bring the entire squadron with them. Nico's limp has healed by now, and so has Octavian's eye.

"What's going, runt?" asks Lawrence. "How's your day?"

"Worse now that you're here," Nico quips. "What do you want?"

"Just a little routine _check-up,_ " drawls Octavian. "Make sure you're in your place."

"Literally, someone _died_ three weeks ago," Nico deadpans. "And you're here to ensure I'm 'in my place?'"

Octavian blanches; Bryce glares. Both of them are a little bit gobsmacked, and they don't respond.

"That's what I thought." Nico scowls back at them. "So can you just _mind your own business_ — for once?"

Lawrence smirks at that, having regained his composure. "But that's just _boring._ "

"It's so much more fun to mess around," says Octavian, having caught on.

"Are you for real?" wonders Nico. Then he sighs. He shouldn't have expected any less. "Guess it's my fault for assuming you have decency." Nico slams the door to his locker shut, giving both of the boys glares. "We're done here." He turns to walk away, but there's suddenly a weight on his wrist, and he's being pushed back toward Lawrence, who's grabbing his arm with a glint in his eye.

"You listen here, runt," he says, inching closer to Nico — so close that he can feel the breath on his face, feel his words, low and threatening. "I make the calls here."

Nico snatches his wrist away, ignoring the small throb in it. "More like you get your lackeys to make the calls for you," he sneers. "Get away from me."

Octavian gives him an appraising look for a moment, and then says, "Maybe, maybe not…" in a fashion that insinuates _Definitely not._

"Okay," Nico asserts, "we _are_ done here. I'm not listening to this crap any more. So get away from my locker and maybe we won't do the messy black-eye crap again, yeah?" He then turns away once more, making sure his hands are well away from the two upperclassmen.

Nico walks all the way home, not looking back once.

He makes a pit stop at the grave — nothing yields of it, but he swears there's a little more gold embedded in the stone. It's probably a trick of the mind, anyway; seeing recent events, it wouldn't be that implausible.

. . .

— _Butch body still not found. Why?_

— _Gravestone changes. ?_

— _Real or not real?_

— _Butch, where?_

— _No new bodies found. ?_

— _Connections to Walker case possible._

. . .

There's nothing, nothing, still nothing for a week after the incident with Lawrence and Octavian.

Until there _is_ something — exactly a month after Butch's death, on November 28th, the _New York Times_ headlines show: _YOUNG HIGH SCHOOLER'S ZOMBIE CORPSE FOUND._

It's Butch; after a month of silence, it's a lead.


	4. Chapter 4

**a/n:**

 _ **a note, which contains cursing, so be forewarned; if you don't care, just skip below it:**_

 **this story only has 4 reviews at the time i write this. and a lot more visitors. so i would really appreciate it if you guys made yourselves known to me, because if you don't like this story, i'll just delete it. there's no point in my writing if nobody cares about it.**

 **my one-shots have more reviews than this story. i'm starting to feel like this is just boring and pointless. each chapter i have only gets** _ **one or two**_ **reviews. and i'm not saying i won't post a chapter if i don't get any reviews. i'm not begging for reviews; don't misunderstand my intentions here. i'm asking any fans of this story that exist to show yourselves, and to tell me if there's any point in continuing this story, because trashier, newer fics than mine are way more popular. i'm not going to waste my free time and deadline myself needlessly to finish this fic if nobody's reading it. it's just a waste. trashy** _ **Ask the Seven**_ **stories are more popular than this fic, because apparently that's what this fandom recognizes. generic, grammatically incorrect percabeth fics have more recognition than this does. i don't even know if i have an audience.**

 **i am tired of this damn fandom. when someone is writing solangelo and has their entire story planned out start to finish, they get no recognition. and when someone writes for percabeth and pulls plots out of their asshole without even regarding the rules of basic grammar, they get** _ **all the reviews.**_ **i will freely admit that i am bitter.**

 **so, if any fanbase for this story exists, please review. i'm tired. i don't want to waste my time. tell me if this story is worth it, tell me this fandom isn't hopeless.**

 **otherwise, this is just the last time. that's it. i'm done.**

 **(and since there probably is no fanbase for this story, i'll say this is most likely the last time. i hope you enjoy what is probably this fic's last chapter and this early update.)**

 **also the random dots in the notes are ink blots; i explain it but if you didn't catch it; yes, i did explicitly mention nico's gayness; yes, i did mention WWII. i'm not going to skirt around the words 'gay' or 'homosexual' or 'sexuality.' sorry (is really not sorry).**

. . .

Nico spends the next week after school over-analyzing the news and the pictures with news about Butch.

His bedroom ends up cluttered, messy, and extremely disorganized. Papers, clippings, pins, markers — all strewn about the place. In the center is a large mystery-movie corkboard with the most important things on it; there are red lines drawn between clippings for possible connections.

Nico tries to balance homework, projects, commitments, and this new Butch mystery. It doesn't really work out, and he ends up pulling all-nighters practically every day as he awkwardly juggles his way through the days.

His notebook isn't in much shape. Physically, it looks fine.

On the inside, it looks like someone's slow descent into madness. The entries get less neat the more one flips through the pages, and the questions become slightly odd as well. The times Nico pauses with his pen on the notebook while he tries to calm the twitching of his eyes are very visible due to the random dots in between words.

The problem is that after weeks of nothing, nothing, still nothing, when there's finally _something_ and it doesn't turn up anything useful, it gets infuriating. It's like when one is faced by a cup of steaming hot tea, but it can't be sipped, for it'd burn your tongue. This is like that.

Nico runs on coffee and cup noodles and fumes of air. Nico's skin grows paler and he gets dark bags under his eyes. He's sleepy, sleepy, but there's _work to do._

. . .

Will notices, of course. He's Will. Nothing escapes his sharp laser eyes.

Will scans his face that Friday with cold eyes and a disapproving frown. Nico frowns back, but he shrugs nonetheless.

He needs a lead on Butch. He doesn't care what Will has to say about it. He'll cook up some lie.

Will will probably see through his bullshit fibs, but Nico doesn't really give much thought to it.

 _He can pry all he wants,_ he thinks. _He's not getting anything out of me._

Sure enough, Will pries, all right: "Nico, are you sleeping?" he asks at lunch — they're sitting next to each other and he's kind of whispering a little, but Hazel seems to have heard their conversation and looks at Nico sharply.

"Yeah," lies Nico, after looking at Hazel blankly. "Why?"

"Because you are obviously lying. Look at your dark circles! And your dead eyes! How long has it been since you last slept — slept _well,_ for at least seven hours?"

 _Five days,_ Nico thinks but doesn't say. He's been counting. _I had some naps in between...do those count?_

"Yesterday...I think, I don't keep track of the hours…" Nico murmurs. "Yeah, probably yesterday."

Will's sky-blue eyes — which are overly and unfairly mesmerizing — gleam with concern. "Are you _sure?_ Completely sure? One hundred percent sure?"

"Ninety-nine," quips Nico. "I'm fine. Chill, Will," he says. It's become something of a saying since he'd first muttered it by accident. Nico thinks _Chill, Will_ could be a nice catchphrase; it has a nice ring to it.

Will's attractive face with that jawline and _those cheekbones_ hardens.

 _Oh, why does he have to be so pretty?_ Nico bemoans inwardly. _Why?_

 _You_ totally _don't have a crush on him,_ replies his inner voice. _Of course not. Don't be ridiculous. You aren't gay. What do you mean — no homo, man!_

He's a little bit too sarcastic with himself sometimes.

It's hard — being born in the forties and not being a typical straight male. Back then he'd had to hide the feelings he'd inexplicably had for little Antonio living down the street. There was a kind of constant fear in him at the time. What if the Nazis _knew?_ It was a stupid assumption — the bombs were new and all, but nobody could read his mind...right? — but Nico had felt at the time that somehow, they _knew,_ everyone knew, and they were going to find him and take him to a camp and hole him up there until he died a painful death for being _unnatural, an abomination._

It's 2017, now. It's a completely different world. Nobody's going to shame him for being who he is. No one — save for a few nasty people — would hate him for liking guys.

Still, what if Will's one of those few people. What if Will hates him?

Nico's slowly coming to terms with himself — he doesn't have to be liked by everyone, and anyone who hates him can shove off. He tells that voice, _So what if I_ am _gay?_

The voice responds, _Good. You're learning._

This internal musing is cut off by Will waving a hand in his face, worriedly saying, "Nico?"

"Wha —" Nico jolts out of his reverie. "Sorry. I was thinking — about — um, stuff," he finishes eloquently.

"Yeah, but what you should be thinking about," Hazel interjects, "is how little sleep you've obviously been getting. Now — end of discussion — we are going to Mrs. Johnson's class together." It's the only one they share. They've talked over and over about the pains of U.S. History.

Hazel's a sweet girl. Over the days Nico's come to think of her as somewhat of a sister.

She's not a replacement for Bianca. Both are — in Bianca's case, _were_ — so individual, they can't even compare to each other. Neither's better than the other. But for Nico, it's like she's family. The way she's always so concerned about him and the way she gets commanding when he's in deep crap — that's what sisters do. That is what family does.

Nico hasn't had family in a long time. He likes the feeling — even as his eyes get droopy and the looks get more concerned, that feeling is warm, fuzzy, fluffy, and it stays with him.

. . .

After a long while, Nico returns to the grave. It's past time, after all. On Thursday — _jueves_ in Spanish, and he again wonders why he's remembering — Nico makes his tired, tired legs move to the familiar spot, toward the oddity.

For a moment, he just looks at it — there's something different, but everything is the same, even that feeling of _something there._ It's new but old, familiar but not, all at the same time and it is _unsettling._ Nico stares at the stone, that off-white with the embeddings, for a long time, trying to muddle through his coffee-addled, sleep-deprived brain.

He tries to conjure up the last time he'd seen the grave in his mind. He remembers it, now. The same shade of white and the gold, the metals in the stone less numerous then, it seems. He sees the position, the way it'd leaned slightly to the left —

And that's it, isn't it? The grave isn't leaning to the left. It's front and center. A small shift, but noticeable to anyone who's spent a long time studying it — noticeable to someone like Nico.

 _What?_

. . .

— _Shift . in graveyard. ?_

— _Mo . re metals . ?_

— _Why change?_

— _Queen Marie alive/ . dead/other?_

. . .

Nico makes more crazed notes, lives off a little more coffee, and tries but fails to deflect Will's mother hen tendencies.

He scribbles suspiciously in the notebook, but he's a little afraid of investigating further. What happens if someone's there, and what happens if he has to engage with someone in his sleep-deprived, coffee-addicted, and noodle-like state?

When he was at the grave he hadn't dared to touch it; what if someone could be able to find his signature on it? What if someone knows about everything that touches the grave? It's paranoia, but these people are dangerous, not opposed to murder, and definitely very dangerous.

With that epiphany comes yet again the realization that Nico is extremely unfit, is extremely weak at the moment, and has no strength left — neither mental nor physical.

Nico needs to get himself together. Because something's going to happen. He doesn't know what's going to happen — only that something wicked is on the horizons. And most likely, it'll come soon.

. . .

"So, Nico, are you, by any chance, going to tell me what's going on with you?" Will presses at lunch for what might be the millionth time.

"Ah — what?" mutters Nico. He hasn't been listening. He's been realizing that he's a noodle and having epiphanies about something dangerous coming to the city.

"You're not listening to anything these days, you look dangerously sleep-deprived and you're practically swaying on your feet, not even _mentioning_ those dark circles — need I go on?" Will asks.

"I know, I know," Nico replies tiredly. He's always tired these days, mostly because the most sleep he gets is two hours' worth of it.

"So?" Will prompts. "Are you going to tell me what's going on? Or at least try and get help for whatever's happening?"

"Nico, we're worried about you," Hazel adds.

"Get sleep, Nico!" Lou Ellen calls from the other end of the table, just loud enough so they can hear. Cecil sits next to her, and he nods vigorously.

Nico's heart warms a little at the scene. Here are people who've known him for about four months acting more concerned for him than anyone has in years.

 _Key word,_ murmurs a little voice in his head, _acting._

 _Shut up,_ Nico tells it.

He explains aloud, "I've been getting a lot of homework and projects and everything from teachers."

Will frowns. "That's terrible!" He scowls. "Is it even okay for them to do that?"

"And are you sure you haven't just been incessantly procrastinating?" asks Frank, chiming into the conversation.

"If I was procrastinating I'd be sleeping," Nico tells him. "But I have a history project to do" — a true thing, which Hazel could attest to — "the daily dose of math homework" — again, not hard to believe, and still true — "and random English essays I have to drink lots of coffee to finish."

Hazel and Will now sport matching frowns. "Gross," she sneers. "You got stuck with a bad lot, huh?"

"Yeah," Nico says, not untruthfully. His teachers are all challenging aside from Biology, and Nico has a lot of workload combined with the mystery of Bryce's death and the new threat, which is proving to be more dangerous than anything he's faced before. At least Minos and Kronos had had faces; this new enemy is just a nameless, blank slate. Nico imagines the person behind it all with a black hood covering their face; genderless, featureless. Just — a something.

But with these people by his side, Nico has a little more strength. He needs to pull through for them, because _they can't be gone. None of them can be next._ Nico won't allow that to happen.

It's a nice thing, having friends.

. . .

"Hey, Neeks —"

" _Neeks?_ " Nico whirls around to face Will; it's in the hallway before school, and Nico's been rested for the first time in a long week, but he's still not a morning person, and he's still crabby during mornings. "What kind of nickname is _Neeks?_ "  
Will shrugs. "I'm too lazy to call you Nico and I wanted to change things up a bit."

"Too lazy to enunciate a word," Nico deadpans.

"Yep," Will says, popping the _p._ It's cute and infuriating at the same time. Suddenly, though, he sobers up, and he asks a little more seriously, "Anyway, I was going to ask you if you'd come with me to show someone around. We've got a new kid, and since I've done 'such an amazing job'" — he emphasizes with air quotes — "at 'introducing you to the school environment' I need to show this kid around, too."

"What year?" asks Nico.

"Junior, which is odd, but I guess reassuring? Like, if a sophomore can do it, you can too? I 'dunno, don't ask."

Nico hums noncommittally, but he walks with Will to the office anyway.

The dispassionate clerk whose name Nico still does not know is handing a tall boy with close-cropped blond hair his schedule.

"Thank you," says the boy politely. Nico gets a better look at him; straight posture, confident looks, and a _very_ familiar voice. From here Nico can tell he has blue eyes, but that's about it; the glass obscures his facial features some.

"Hi!" Will chimes as he rounds the corner.

Nico finally gets a good look at his face.

Blue eyes, blond hair, straight back, that _scar on his upper lip —_

It's a wonder Nico doesn't pass out right then and there.

"I'm Will Solace!" he introduces himself. "And this is Nico, Nico di Angelo — say _hi!_ "

"Hello." Nico waves awkwardly, while sending the boy a look like _Don't you dare do it._

The boy waves back, a little uncomfortably, but much more smoothly than Nico. "Hi, Nico. I'm Jason Grace."


	5. Chapter 5

**a/n: y'all are amazing, you don't even know how much you inspired me to write more. i'm so thankful for each and every one of you who reviewed and told me that this story was worth it. thank you guys so much. i'm grateful for every review.**

 **i'm so sorry for this late update, my house was being fumigated and i wasn't in a headspace for writing, plus i've been really busy with querencia and everything so here's a double update for your patience**

 **also i love mint chip but my parents prefer the "proper ice cream flavors" so they never let me eat it and** _ **i'm bitter**_

 **this was one of my longest chapters yet be proud of me, it was almost 3k words. a present for your inspiration (which is funny, because my outline for this chapter was really short, but i wanted to flesh out the relationship between nico and jason.)**

. . .

Of course it's Jason because of course it is, isn't it? It's _Jason Grace_ from the Agency with his blond hair and blinding teeth and just — _ugh._

They're walking to Jason's locker — which happens to be right next to Nico's in what is not a coincidental turn of events at all — right in front of Will, and Nico leans into Jason, whispering quietly, "Don't you _dare_ rat me out."

"I'm not here to rat you out!" Jason whispers back. "Really — I'm here to help."

"We are having words about this later," Nico says authoritatively.

"Clearly," Jason confirms.

Will jogs up to them and chirps, "Having fun? Getting along, and all that jazz?"

Nico smiles thinly and a little bit exaggeratedly. "Mmhmm," he hums in confirmation.

Jason adds, "Nico is very — knowledgeable," in what is not an awkward manner. At all. _Nope._

Will squints suspiciously at them, but doesn't look like he's _really_ suspecting what's going on — because how can he suspect that both Nico and Jason are part of a secret agency of super-powered people who know that something's going on with the undead and are trying to stop more zombie murders from happening?

Nico's life is messed up. It's the way it is.

"Of course," Nico scoffs. "I'm the most knowledgeable," he says, trying to play along.

"O — kay," Will agrees, a little bit tentatively. "Well, you're warming up to each other. And" — he glances at his watch — "class is in two minutes. I'd better get going, my class is all the way in the 70s wing." He waves. "See you later!"

Will jogs off to his next class, leaving Nico and Jason at their lockers right next to each other.

For a moment, there's silence. A beat passes. Another. One more.

Then Nico and Jason come to their senses. "Where's your next class?" Nico asks, while opening his locker to get his textbook out.

"52, chem," replies Jason promptly, rummaging through his own locker.

"Great, we'll walk together," asserts Nico, and drags Jason over, walking slowly toward the 51-52 duo of classes.

"Oh — what?" Jason asks, confused, but Nico already has a tight clamp on his arm and is _not_ letting go any time soon, because _damn this,_ he needs answers.

"Okay, spill," Nico says as they walk to their classes. The doors are still a good few paces away, and Jason can talk fast when he needs to. "Why are you here?"

"Chiron made me come," Jason answers. "He's worried. Bodies are dropping." Of course, Nico knows about Butch's death, but he had been so preoccupied with it he hadn't noticed the other ones who'd died at the hands of this mysterious organization. Is that bad of him? "People are dying. We need more hands on deck."

"Agreed," says Nico tentatively, "but he can't just drop this on me! I should've been _notified —_ "

"And you should've," Jason placates. "I don't know why you weren't."

Nico sighs, the fight draining out of him. They're at 51 anyway. "I'll see you," he tells Jason. "And they'd better have issued you your own damn apartment."

. . .

Jason has his own apartment, actually. Which is just as well, because Nico isn't sharing. Nico doesn't share.

Nico tries to investigate the deaths in his spare time, but that kind of works out a little bit oddly, because he's a lot more mindful of his health and sleep schedules now that he's realized this whole overworking thing isn't going to help him with what's coming. So he kind of actually works well on his homework and doesn't procrastinate on it, and then he tries to make connections later in the day, which makes him a little tired. The notebook entries have definitely gotten neater, though:

— _Situation worsening. Getting desperate. Why?_

— _More bodies. ?_

— _Butch leads gone. ?_

Maybe it's for the better. Nico feels a lot more peaceful now that he isn't dying of sleep deprivation and he isn't running on cup noodles and caffeine. So maybe there is something to this whole healthy sleep thing after all.

. . .

Jason finds out about Nico's terrible crush-not-crush-totally-a-crush on Will soon enough, because this is Jason, expert in requited and unrequited love, and he has had both with his girlfriend Piper McLean.

After school they're sort of walking home together in what's totally a basic elementary-school move, but the Agency gets them in the same apartment complex because apparently they own it. Nico has totally known about this from the very beginning of his stay there, which is why it was such a shock when he found out.

Anyway, Jason just kind of looks at him slyly, and then says, "So" in that way that's casual but not really but it's just a _So_ shut up nothing's happening.

"So," Jason says in that infuriating way. He's an avid believer in the awkward, terrible, annoying _So._ He uses it frequently. Nico hates it. "What is this I hear about _you and Will Solace?_ "

"What," Nico says, but then he hears what Jason's saying and asks, "What?"

"Yes," Jason confirms. "You like Will Solace," he agrees with himself, as if that one _What?_ is telling in itself.

"What?" Nico wonders again, but then rectifies himself. "I mean, I don't! What even made you think —"

"— Cecil and Lou Ellen and Hazel and Frank came to me and told me to do something because for all their efforts you are still hopelessly pining."

"I am not _pining,_ " Nico denies. "I am observing. A lot. From a distance."

"Okay, cut the crap. You're pining," deadpans Jason.

Nico sighs. "I'm _pining_!" he cries hopelessly. "I'm crap, Jason, because I'm _pining_!"

"There, there," Jason consoles. "Come over to my place. I think I still have a pint of mint chip."

. . .

Jason has _more_ than a pint of mint chip. He has _seven_ pints of mint chip.

"So much ice cream," Nico says, a little in awe. "How are you not obese?"

"The problem with having so much ice cream," Jason explains, "is that I never eat it."

Nico gives him a look like _What the hell are you doing?_ Jason shrugs simply, as if it's no big deal that he keeps all of this mint chip ice cream just laying in the freezer, alone and cold, with no one eating it. Nico rolls his eyes at him.

"You are _stupid,_ " Nico decides. "You have _this_ much ice cream and you aren't eating it? You are vile and undeserving of all this mint chip."

Jason claps a hand to his heart in mock humiliation. "Hey! I eat ice cream _once a month,_ thank you very much!"

Nico rolls his eyes again. "I digress. You are stupid."

"Stupid for letting you eat this," mutters Jason as he gets out two bowls.

Nico stares at the bowl dubiously. "A bowl. That is not going to cut all the binge-eating we're doing today. We have loads to talk about, like my hopeless pining and the new bodies and all the crap that's going on. Get me an entire box. I'm eating it all."

. . .

"Okay," Jason says as he digs a dent into his mint chip box. "This is _good_ ice cream." He gesticulates between Nico and the bowl. "Maybe I really am stupid."

"Stupidity aside," Nico commands, "we need to talk about the Agency. Like —"

"— Like what the hell is going on there? Yeah," agrees Jason. "We do. Because I have _no idea._ Jupiter just kind of sent me here and Thalia just kind of pushed me here and everyone was like 'Jason, Special Agent di Angelo needs help, people are dying here and we don't know his progress!' And I just kind of went with it...yeah." By the end of his speech — which finishes on quite a lame note — Jason has sunken to the bottom of the couch, and he eats another big bite of ice cream in mourning.

"First things first," Nico says simply — a little bit confused by the entire thing, but getting Jason's general meaning, "we already know these things: someone's messing with the dead. Most likely with powers. They're killing people and using their dead bodies for _something_ — I don't know what — but their fresh corpses appear, like zombies, _months later._ It's not in the natural process of things, which means there must be some artificial stuff going on with it."

"Well, definitely." Jason gives him a look that says, _Duh. I'm not an idiot._

"Here's what you _don't_ know — or maybe you do, I have no idea what the Agency knows — the search to pinpoint where exactly the oddities are happening led me to a grave," Nico continues.

"That's not good," Jason murmurs grimly. "Graves are never good."

"Anyway, it belongs — belonged? — to one _Queen Marie_ , who lived from 1909 to 1942, and the tagline is — get this: _Death does not stop the committed._ " Nico takes a bite of the _glorious, glorious_ mint chip, and looks at Jason smugly.

"Okay, that is definitely pretty shady…" concedes Jason. "Yeah, there's something going on there."

"And there are these metals in the gravestone. I'd show you but — well, we aren't there right now, and I'm recovering from a recent bout of sleep deprivation, so it wouldn't be advisable to shadow travel. Anyway, it looks like there's _more_ metal in the gravestone lately, which is completely implausible, and the gravestone seems to have...shifted. It used to lean slightly to the left, but now it's all front and center, and it makes me suspicious."

Jason gives Nico a look like _You're reaching._ "Don't you think," he says after a moment and a bite of mint chip, "you're reaching just a little too far?"

"I am literally grasping at straws," Nico admits freely.

"...Okay," Jason says. Because really, there's no good response to that, as smooth as the agent is.

"I need to show it to you. You need to see to believe — and I'm spouting some real Disney crap right here." Nico laughs at himself. "Well. Nothing that copious amounts of ice cream and potential weight gain can't fix."

Jason laughs at Nico, too.

Oh, it's liberating, to know that someone else is as clueless about this whole thing as Nico is, liberating to know that Jason is by his side in this thing, good to know that Nico has a companion. And well — maybe Jason is a _friend._ They're certainly — bonding, and that's what friends do, right? Nico seems to have a lot of those friends lately. He might as well add another to the mix.

. . .

Jason officially joins The Gang™ of friends (that's a thing, right? Something the Cool Kids™ do?) Nico has procured over the past few weeks. He hangs with them at lunch, bonds with the older ones, and develops an inexplicable friendship with Frank Zhang, the Asian one, around whom Hazel gets very flustered.

 _Ah, young love,_ Nico thinks, and then remembers his own situation.

 _I'm not young,_ he counters his mental argument. _I'm in my eighties. Technically. Whatever._

It makes the entire thing with their shared investigations _much_ easier. Will is often found gazing at Nico and Jason with narrowed eyes.

Jason jumps on this thing and grasps at more straws than Nico does — "Oh my gosh. He totally likes you. He's jealous."

"Are you pining or am I?" wonders Nico.

"What does it matter?" Jason counters. "It's Christmas Break in _three days,_ and then — oh joy. Freedom. I am so ready to be done with all of this. I am so ready to see Piper again —"

"— Oh, please," Nico interrupts. "I'll come to the Agency parties and whatnot, but I'll be spending the rest of my break huddled in bed and trying to solve the grave mystery —"

"— You need to simmer down," Jason advises him. "Make like Will and _chill._ "

. . .

"Oh dear," Will cries on the last day of school until break. "I won't be seeing you all until January. And I _love it_!"

"Ditto," agrees Nico. "No offense, but I am ditching this place first chance I get."

. . .

Christmas at the Agency is bittersweet for Nico.

All the couples are _happy_ and _joyous_ and spreading their Holiday Cheer™. It's disgusting because Nico is single and a complete Grinch.

Jason is even _more_ disgusting because it's like the holidays have turned him into some sort of lovesick puppy. He looks so cheerful and in love with his girlfriend.

Nico isn't even going to start on Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase. Ever since they got together, they've been all happy and fluffy and fuzzy and teenage coupling all over the place with their kisses and seashell necklaces and _why is everyone in a relationship?_

Nico finds himself missing Bianca and Mother even more than before. Now that everyone is happy and everyone has their family — Nico is all alone.

Hades finds him sulking in his room on Christmas day. He smiles, a little sadly, and hands Nico a box wordlessly.

The box is black, and the ribbon on it is silver. Looking down on it, Nico remembers — it'd been _her_ favorite color. She'd always loved the gleaming, chromatic feel to the hue.

When Nico looks up, Hades is gone.

He scowls, but unties the ribbon and opens the velvety box.

Inside is a figurine — it's from that game he used to play with Bianca, Mythomagic — he remembers how obsessed he used to be. Nico runs his thumb across it, studies the planes of the figure, the nose chiseled from ivory. The man wears a dark cape and has a pale visage.

 _Hades_. The only one she didn't have.

There's a simple note sitting at the bottom of the box. The pale paper showcases Hades's perfect 1940s cursive.

— _She'd have liked it._

It's a simple indulgence, a what-could-have-been. Nico lets himself have it, just because.

He sets the figurine carefully back in the box. After all — she'd have liked it.

. . .

The return from winter break is somewhat uneventful, aside from the dead body.

Nico doesn't see it happen himself, this time, but there's a faint scream heard somewhere in the 110s wing and someone shouts, "Another!" Confused, Nico shakes his head and opens the door to Ms. Gonzalez's room.

The class is nothing, just the standard fare — at this point they're on the verbs _ir_ and _estar_ as well as their conjugations — but everyone has grim faces during passing period, and Nico catches up to Jason as first period ends.

"What's going on?" he asks him.

Jason shakes his head. "I haven't got a clue, but it seems serious...there are mutterings...someone dead…"

Nico's heart freezes for a moment. "You don't think —?"

"Yeah," Jason confirms. "I think it's them."

. . .

Nothing's confirmed until third period, when the news leaks out that a boy named Alabaster Torrington was murdered earlier in the morning and that his body was found near room 114; the principal announces over the loudspeaker that students are advised to be careful and to watch out for strangers. School is still happening because it'd be a horrible inconvenience to have so many kids' parents at work have to come over and pick them up, so at lunch, everyone is there and in a frenzy.

"Oh my gosh, there's been _another murder,_ " Cecil says, horrified. "I can't even believe it, this is so damn horrible. People these days are _sick_ and I can't believe this is school anymore, why even come back for winter break if we're going to be murdered!" he panics, fervent, nervous, and completely struck by this new development.

One murder could've been written off. But _two?_ That makes it too coincidental to be normal and something like a serial killer on the loose. And that just multiplies the chances of anyone from Nico's friend group being next.

 _Oh my goodness,_ Nico thinks with paranoia, _what if it's Will next? Or someone targets Hazel? Frank? Austin? Cecil…?_

"There was _one before?_ " Jason pretends to know little about Butch's murder.

"Oh, yes, it was a terrible thing…" Hazel is practically shaking all over, she's so scared and horrified. "I can't — this is just — _murder. Someone's targeting this school._ I just — I'm so scared, nervous, what if someone — decides — it's going to be one of us next?" She voices the question everyone's been thinking.

"I — I don't know," Nico says uncertainly. "I don't know."

. . .

Nico and Jason meet up in the gray apartment with Nico's corkboard, and Jason brings his mint chip with him because — well, it's mint chip, and Jason has too much ice cream anyway.

No one in the group had known Alabaster, but they're looking nonetheless, because they need to. They owe it to this kid to stop his murderers.

The body will emerge inevitably, but Nico knows that it needs to be used first. So he tracks the grave, arriving at it when he feels like it, and taking pictures with his cellphone — which is really odd to use, but the tech classes courtesy of the Agency help — and tries to look for shifts or differences in it.

There's nothing. Nothing, nothing, still nothing. But Nico and Jason persist, because that's what they do.


	6. Chapter 6

**a/n: second in the double update! again, i'm sorry i took two weeks to update; again, i've had complications, and i hope y'all understand and that this makes up for the wait**

 **i procrastinated a lot on this chap bc i fell into the rabbit hole that is** _ **glee.**_ **i originally watched one S3 episode bc matt bomer was in it and i have a** _ **white collar**_ **obsession (and he said "don't go to new york" UMMM stop betraying the entire wc fandom, don't break my fucking heart) and anyway i binged half of S1 in a day and grant gustin is apparently also on it so fuck** _ **glee**_ **has my soul now**

 **this chap contains cursing! i have a potty mouth and these are teens here so you really should expect it, and i try to filter it as much as i can but occasionally it'll leak through oops**

 **sorry there hasn't been much on the solangelo front but it will come, please be patient with me, i have so much planned for this**

 **if i haven't wished you guys before, happy new year! and if i didn't do that either in my last couple of updates (and i** _ **probably**_ **forgot, i'm not monotheistic) — christmas, hanukkah/chanukah (i'm not sure which one it is, but i've seen a lot of jewish people use the spelling with ch— so i just kept both. idek, and sorry if i botched that) whatever you all celebrate — happy holidays!**

. . .

After one week of nothing, Nico finally finds a small shift in the gravestone — just a _little_ bit, leaning ever-so-slightly to the right, but that's the shift right there, and Nico takes a picture of it at the same angle he's taken the pictures for the past week, and immediately shows the pictures to Jason.

"Look." Nico waves the side-by-side comparison he printed on a paper, in landscape orientation, in Jason's face — it's after school and they've both finished their homework because they're agents and have better things to do. "It shifted. The thing is real."

Jason practically jumps on the page, and squints at it, even pulling out a pair of glasses to aid his vision when searching for the minutiae in the picture.

"You're right," he says finally. "It's barely there, but it's there — it _shifted._ Damn. You were right."

Nico grabs a tub of ice cream from his fridge in satisfaction. He doesn't know how it got there, but Jason must have brought it in because he has _four_ pints of mint chip (he used to have seven. Seven) and Nico is taking advantage of _that._

"I _told_ you, I told you," gloats Nico. "I told you there's something going on here —"

"— And we're going to figure out what," Jason says, steely resolve glinting in his normally calm eyes. Nico likes that look on him — it's the look of the person who's going to help him side-by-side through this whole thing.

. . .

Speaking of shifts, there is a definite one in Hazel's behavior these days. She's nervous, and when they walk to U.S. History together, she looks around in a way that's scared, expectant, as if she's waiting for someone who isn't going to come but might make their presence known at any time, as if someone is watching her.

It unnerves Nico more than anything. He's come to care for her, and if she's nervous or afraid, Nico should be too — even though she's a civilian, Hazel's sensible enough not to mesh herself in unsavory things; at least, willingly. Nico isn't sure if it's remaining paranoia from the death of Alabaster or if it's something else.

It doesn't stop him from asking while they're on their way to the aforementioned History class. "Hazel, are you alright?"

Her answer is squirrelly, and it shows in her edgy tone. "Fine, no big deal — everything's fine and why do you even need to ask?"

Nico isn't buying that shit — especially when he'd pulled it with his whole coffee-noodle phase.

"Of course," he says nonetheless, because he gets it, and he gets that she needs _time._ If it doesn't seem too serious, Nico isn't going to pry, because he knows from experience that these are the things that one works out on their own.

. . .

Octavian makes his grand return sometime next week; he's been subdued by all the deaths, but lately he's back and better than ever, strutting through the corridors and harassing innocent freshmen.

It's rumored he hasn't confronted Jason yet — for reasons unknown. Nico smirks when he hears that news, because _of course_ he wouldn't — Jason's Jason.

He returns to get Nico again, this time alone and without his friend Bryce Lawrence.

"What?" asks Nico sardonically when Octavian nears him at his locker. "No lackeys? No Lawrence? My, my" — he shakes his head sadly — "how the mighty have fallen."

Octavian sneers at him sourly. He looks more bitter than usual and quite rushed. "Oh, shut up, di Angelo. I'm bored. Amuse me."

"How so?" Nico raises an eyebrow in what he hopes is a fluid, elegant manner. "Don't beat around. We both know you're here because your 'friends' ditched you and you've got nothing better to do." He waves a hand dismissively at him. "Now go bother someone else who'll actually take your stupidity."

"My friends did not _ditch me_!" Octavian looks positively appalled at Nico's accusation — he's really overselling it.

"I'm not buying it," Nico deadpans. "But have a nice day, now, because I've got stuff to do." Nico makes a big show of looking at his watch. It's after school anyway and he's got to finish his homework quickly so he can prepare for Jason's visit.

Octavian huffs as Nico slams his locker shut and walks away. They're not done, of course — Octavian will inevitably come back for more — but for now, Nico's got a win.

. . .

Octavian is smart. Nico will give him that.

He finds Nico again when he's walking with Hazel to his locker. Again, it's after school and it's a Wednesday, and Jason had cancelled their plans earlier because he wanted to visit his girlfriend Piper.

So Nico's hanging with Hazel today, because as much as he isn't up for much socializing, he and Hazel haven't been all that close lately, what with her odd behavior and Nico's preoccupations.

He's having a good conversation with one of his friends and someone he's trying to support — until Octavian ruins it.

"Well, well, well," Octavian sneers as he walks toward them, giving Nico and Hazel a look like _Psh, peasants._ "What have we here? It's two little freshies...the di Angelo kid _and_ Miss Levesque here! Two in one!" he exclaims, as if two people walking together is the equivalent of a Buy One, Get One deal at Walmart.

In a completely high school movie move, Octavian's minions walk up menacingly, as if _Two in one_ is their pre-planned signal phrase. Some of them are even cracking their knuckles as they hulk up next to Octavian. Bryce Lawrence takes his right hand side.

"Hello, Levesque," Lawrence leers at her. Nico scowls, and huddles closer to Hazel, because that's just gross. Lawrence definitely does not have good intentions for Hazel, and Nico's mind is literally screaming _EW_ at him.

Hazel answers, voice trembling a little. "Just — fine. Without you."

Lawrence smiles nastily, and there's something in Nico that rises up to think _Oh no, you don't._ Nico steps in front of Hazel and snarls, "Get away from her, Lawrence." _You damn pig._

"Oh, gladly," says Lawrence obligingly. "I'll just beat the crap out of you instead."

And again, the minions rise upon Nico, as if _instead_ is their signal word, walking up with large steps and synchronized movements. They work in sync, like a machine, and it's a little mesmerizing to watch but it's mostly terrifying because last time they descended upon Nico, he was in crutches for a few weeks, and Nico would _really_ not like a repeat of that.

It's Hazel who emerges to defend him this time, pushing Nico away and mirroring his earlier thoughts by saying, "Oh, no, _you don't!_ " The next thing Nico knows, Hazel's fist is in the air and it's pointing right at Lawrence and it's smashing into his face, and _ooh,_ that looks like it hurt.

"You want to mess with him," Hazel growls, "you're 'gonna have to go through me first." She looks at Octavian and Lawrence significantly, conveying, _And you don't want to do that._

Lawrence gapes at Hazel like he's never seen her before. "Did you just —?" he asks, almost incredulously, as if he can't believe that a little freshman like Hazel just punched him in the face.

"I just did." Hazel nods sarcastically.

 _Holy crap,_ Nico thinks. _What is this new confident Hazel? I love it!_

"It's not like freshmen haven't beaten you before," Nico adds, alluding to Octavian's infamous black eye for those few weeks. That had been _very_ satisfying. "So why don't you crawl back to wherever you came from and leave us the hell alone?"

Octavian, Lawrence, and the crew step back a little — again, in that weird, unnerving sync — and sport matching sour expressions like they've just swallowed two lemons whole.

"This isn't over — no, no," warns Octavian. "We aren't done yet."

But he walks away anyway and he takes his group with him.

Nico gives Hazel a huge high-five behind their backs.

"That was _crazy,_ " Nico says. "I mean, I punched Octavian, but that was when he was beating the crap out of me and _damn,_ you've got some fists on you and oh my gosh I am rambling like Will," Nico realizes as he speaks a lot in only one breath.

Hazel laughs, and shrugs off Nico's praise. "Anything for a friend."

At that moment, Nico can't help himself — he pulls his sister in everything but blood into a huge hug.

. . .

Nico notices a few things as he hangs out with Hazel over the next few days. This is mostly so he can calm his nerdiness if Jason asks him what happened because he'll definitely start rambling about how much of a badass Hazel is.

Mostly, he notices a certain Frank Zhang and how Hazel gets flustered around him and he gets flustered around her and how young love is so cute — and he really shouldn't be trying to play matchmaker, but Hazel is his friend and his soul sister and she _deserves it!_

So Nico makes his way to his locker early that morning, and since Jason's right next to him Nico takes a little bit of advantage of it.

"Okay." Nico cuts to the chase. "Hazel and Frank totally like each other, and Hazel is one of my best friends and she totally needs it because she deserves sunshine and rainbows, so we're going to get them together."

Jason nods simply. "You have called upon the right person." He smirks mischievously. "I am a matchmaking god. And you are completely hopeless because the _exact same thing_ applies to you and Will — but you know, that's none of my business."

"I know I'm hopeless, okay, but I'm a hypocrite and none of my lifestyle advice applies to me because I'm the friend whose life is falling apart but still finds time to give you tips," defends Nico.

Jason side-eyes him heavily. "Whatever you say — now, I will work on the Frank end and you work on the Hazel end."

. . .

"Okay, I know you like Frank and I know he likes you back so just go for it!" Nico blurts at Hazel. "I'm not good at this thing, so just spare me, okay, and ask him out if he doesn't make the first move...and if he doesn't say yes then I can take revenge!"

Hazel eyes him oddly. "I'll do it if you ask out Will," she offers.

"Wait, no, I didn't agree to this!" Nico exclaims. Hazel's already walking away to her next class. "Hazel! What?"

. . .

"So that backfired." Nico sighs to Jason at lunch.

"What backfired?" Will asks from the other end of the table.

"Nico tried to get Hazel and Frank together but she made him a deal that she'd only ask him out if Nico asked — _his crush_ — out" — Nico can feel his hesitations, but is still thankful Jason hasn't exposed him yet — "and Nico's a wuss, so —"

"Um, hold it right there, I am not a _wuss!_ "

Will purses his lips together. " _Sure…_ "

. . .

Nico snaps his latest picture of Queen Marie's grave. This time, it's back in the centered alignment and there seems to be more metal in the gravestone.

He shows Jason the next side-by-side comparison, and he agrees with him. "That metal thing is really weird. I don't even know how that happens."

"I feel like all these new shifts mean that someone's getting rushed," notes Nico. "They weren't this frequent, so I'd guess that someone's getting impatient. Or someone's on a deadline."

"The question is, who?"

. . .

Nico really doesn't like this Queen Marie business. It hits a little too close to home for him. The 1940s, the name, the notes about death — everything is just so _before,_ so Mother, so Bianca.

Nico finds himself in a state of nostalgia and self-deprecation when he thinks about Bianca. If he hadn't have _ran,_ maybe she'd still be alive — she used to like that silver — the way they'd play Mythomagic — Nico should've _stayed —_

And when he thinks about his mother, he just feels empty, lonely. Because that's the kind of thing Nico can't control — fate. Fate decrees that Nico's going to be lonely; he obliges.

. . .

— _New changes in grave. ?_

— _Desperate._

— _Octavian returning. Looking rushed. Less calm. ?_

— _Differences. Why?_


	7. Chapter 7

**a/n: told you there would be solangeloooooo; it's a bit brief but still there; cursing in this chappy**

. . .

Nico and Jason scour the news for the rest of January, stalk the grave every few days, come up with wild conspiracy theories. Anything to pass the time, anything to give them ideas.

"Maybe there's a cult...and then when it's dark out they come out of the grave and it shifts…"

"Okay, but that still doesn't explain the metal."

"Maybe...they're _injecting it._ With a syringe. Into the gravestone. To trip us up."

"That's stupid, Jason." Nico can't keep the intrigued tone out of his voice. "But maybe you might be onto something there…"

"Where."

"I don't know," admits Nico, "but I just kind of had a feeling, you know?"

"Yeah," Jason says, understanding. They'll do anything to get a leg up on this mystery, anything to get a lead, and frequently there are these _odd_ feelings — _this is important, but that's not right._

The feelings are these little things, but they're there, and Nico doesn't know what he's supposed to do with them. Should he act? He has no idea if his hunches make any sense. Should he wait? _Yes,_ that cynic voice in his head tells him, but the rational side of him agrees. _Wait it out._

Oh, but Nico's _so damn sick_ of waiting. Hasn't he gone through these motions before?

. . .

The lead they're waiting for turns up in February — a welcome distraction from the terrible monster looming ahead: Valentine's Day.

Everything these days is sickeningly pink — there'll be a few splashes of red, but there are _pink hearts everywhere._ It's like a nightmare, the kind of nightmare where one tries to avoid something but it just keeps coming back and it all culminates into a horrible, horrible mess.

It's nice to have something to occupy his mind. Timings. The _how,_ and the _why,_ and the _who_ of everything.

Well — two suspects have been crossed off the list. Forever. And it shouldn't have come to that.

What he and Jason manage to conclude — suspicions confirmed — is that there is a definite connection between the killings and the bodies. The corpses are _fresh_ when they're left out, which means they've been reanimated for some particular _reason._ If people were randomly dying and turning up months later out of their graves their bodies would be _months,_ not _days_ old.

"They need the bodies," Nico tells Jason.

"But for what?"

"That's what we need to find out." Nico sends Jason a significant look.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Jason sighs. "Grab a tub of ice cream. We'll be going rabid by the end of this."

. . .

They don't really find anything conclusive, but their one takeaway is big — the killers need the bodies, are using them, because whatever they're doing, they don't want a living trail. No one misses a dead person; those are the people who have expired from the databases by this point and can't possibly be linked to whoever killed them.

Nico writes his observations down, but he still scowls at the notebook. There's still something missing here, and as much as he has resolve, he doesn't have _proof._ Ideas. Nothing.

 _Nothing, nothing, still nothing,_ Nico thinks bitterly.

. . .

On the positive side, Will hugs him on Valentine's Day.

Nico's never been one for the holiday. He's always thought it's too cheesy, too pink, too lovey-dovey for someone perpetually single like him, too much of everything. It only serves as a reminder of his own very loveless life.

Nico is fine with being single. Really. It would be an amazing life if he wasn't lying to himself, because who is he kidding? Everyone's in a relationship except for maybe him and Will, but everyone's gunning for Will, anyone could crush on Will — and who would notice Nico when there are kids like Solace around?

Not even to mention Nico's giant blob of a crush on him.

So Nico is understandably confused when Will just saunters up to his locker, spins Nico around, and engulfs his significantly smaller frame in a bear hug.

"Ahh — wh —"

"— Shh," Will says. "Let me pretend I'm not single for a moment."

 _I see..._ Nico thinks then.

"Could've picked someone else," grumbles Nico.

Will sneers bitterly, but it's more in a joking way than anything. He can't even be bitter without his inner sunshine sneaking through. Nico's a little bit jealous. " _Someone else_ is everyone else who is in a relationship. What is with everyone else and being in love?"

"I know," Nico says, pulling back. "It's so mind-numbingly fluffy and sickening."

Well, that settles it. This interaction is in no way an indicator to either boy's feelings, because, of course, Will can't possibly like Nico back (especially since his pining is extremely hopeless), and because Nico is the only single one left and they're just trying not to feel left out. This is not an indicator to Nico's feelings for Will. This is not an indicator to Will's feelings for Nico, because those don't exist.

 _They don't exist don't exist how weird would that be if he liked me back?_ a little voice in the back of his mind wonders, sounding just maybe a tiny bit...hopeful.

. . .

Okay, so maybe he's doubtful about the whole thing and Nico already knows that in matters of the heart, he is utterly and completely screwed, hopeless, and sad.

So the quick, easy, simple, and totally embarrassing solution is to ask someone else.

Three someones. Nico is nothing if not thorough.

"Okay, this is an _emergency,_ " Nico tells Hazel, Cecil and Lou Ellen that day at lunch in a secluded corner of their usual lunch table.

"What is it?" asks Hazel urgently, nervously.

"Keep your voice down!" Nico admonishes. "Don't want Will to hear."

"Why don't you want Will to hear?" whispers Cecil.

"Okay, so today's Valentine's, right, and apparently, you're all in relationships, aside from Hazel, but really everyone knows she's taken —"

"I am not taken," mutters Hazel under her breath. She looks over at another table for a moment, quickly, then glances back toward Nico and gives him her attention once he begins to speak.

"— But anyway, Will just kind of walked up to my locker and...hugged me. And he was like, 'Let's pretend I'm not single for a moment,' and I was so completely confused, and it was _platonic,_ right? I mean," Nico rattles off, "I know I'm completely hopeless with things like this so I just decided to get some non-hopeless perspective. But it _was platonic..._ right?"

"Oh, honey." Cecil rolls his eyes. "That was _not_ platonic. That was desperate."

"Oooh, I called it, they're getting together soon and now we need a ship name!" says Lou, trying to sound excited while still whispering.

"Keep your voice down!" Nico whisper-screeches again.

Hazel chuckles, but it's a bit low. "He likes you, don't worry," she assures him.

So there are three opinions. They're all the same.

 _Ohhhhhhh, wait, no, how can he like me?_

. . .

"Stop worrying, Nico, and eat away your worries. Wash them down with my amazing mint chip, because you really shouldn't be worrying, because _obviously Will likes you back, you dolt, friends don't say 'Let's pretend I'm not single for a moment' on_ Valentine's Day!" Jason kind-of-sort-of-definitely is taking this way too hard.

"Okay, but, what if we do date? That would mean _coming out._ Publicly. I don't know if I'm okay with that," Nico shoots back, a little bit panicked because _What if we do date and then they hate me, or what if he's just leading me on and I'm reading into this all wrong?_

"It's _okay,_ " placates Jason. "You don't have to come out if you don't want to, but nobody will hate you for being gay and liking guys. It's 2018. It's not 1940 anymore. People are much more accepting."

"Are — are you sure?" asks Nico, a little bit unsure and a lot scared.

"Completely." Jason sets a reassuring arm on his shoulders. "Now go get your man...but be a little careful," he says, considering. "It wouldn't be good if you got too swept up in pursuing him and lost the real focus here. We're spies, agents, Nico. We can't really have normal lives, but we can sure as hell try."

. . .

Nico decides to get more perspective, and asks Hazel after school the next day for her advice.

"I say go for it," she tells him bluntly. She looks a little bit preoccupied, lost in her own mind, speaking absently and looking around, eyes flittering all over the hallway. "And that you're a hypocrite and should really take the advice you give others." She gives him a joking little side-eye, but there's something a little off about it. She must still be dealing with her problems, then.

Nico laughs. "Okay. I get it."

Hazel waves and makes to leave for her house; Nico watches her go.

"Get what?" a voice rings out from the other end of the main hallway.

It's Octavian, and he has _not-so-smartly_ elected to come alone — maybe because he's embarrassed, still, about being bested by two freshmen in front of his lackeys twice.

"What do you want?" asks Nico, exasperated, tired of this little idiot ruining his days, and already done with this conversation.

"A little bit of gossip," Octavian replies. "Is it _true;_ Will Solace hugged _you_ on Valentine's? How quaint, hooking up because you're the only two single ones."

"We are not _hooking up!_ " declines Nico, but he blushes a little because he and Will would never be hooking up, since that's an extremely inappropriate, scandalous thing to do, and nobody would ever allow it —

" _It's not 1940 anymore._ " Jason's voice rings out in his head.

"Of course," Octavian says in a manner that really means _Of course not._

At that, Nico gets angry. What right does this scrawny idiot pig have on Nico's nonexistent love life? What right does this scrawny idiot pig have to question Will's decision and his taste in crushing, even though Will can't possibly like Nico?

"At least I got _some_ action," Nico fires back. "I doubt you even got a look, much less a hug — except if it was from your daddy dearest, who funds the school and buys away your expulsion."

Octavian gapes; Nico walks away, flashing an obscene gesture involving his longest finger back at him, not even looking back.

. . .

The pattern continues for a while; Nico notes that Octavian or Bryce will come over to him after school, just _right after_ Hazel has walked off and waved goodbye to him, and they'll trade insults and stinging bites at each other for a while, but nothing violent, until someone gets the last word and walks away.

It's odd, odd, odd, nothing's adding up, nothing, nothing, still nothing, and why won't this mystery just solve itself, damn it?

If he wasn't suspicious of these bullies before, Nico is definitely really suspicious now. They've never been enraged teens with ego issues, but they're not even trying to hide their serious, calculating sides anymore, and it is unsettling, deeply concerning, and a cause for doubt. The appearances are deliberate, always after school, only on certain days, Nico notes — Wednesdays and Fridays.

These observations are noted over the next five weeks. Nico has been so wrapped up in his worry and suspicion that he hasn't gotten a chance to really speak with Will at all aside from lunch talk and the like, but they're building somewhat of a best friend-esque bond. For now, Nico decides, he'll keep it that way. He isn't ready, but when he asks out Will, he will be.

Nico talks to Jason about this.

"Wednesdays and Fridays. You've been tracking the grave like I asked you to, right?" Nico asks Jason.

"Well, I don't have any after-school obligations on Tuesdays and Thursdays" — Jason pauses to take a bite of his ice cream — "so that's when I go and check. It shifts every time I check it." He tosses his phone at Nico. "Pictorial evidence."

Nico flips through the image gallery, noting the shifts, the gradual increase in metal.

He furrows his brows and purses his lips. Nico grabs his notebook and thumbs his way to his most recent entries, hoping to get a little light on the situation.

— _Lawrence, Octavian, return after school, right after Hazel leaves —_

Wait. Nico reads the words again — _right after Hazel leaves._

Is it really — is it, really?

It's a coincidence...it has to be, right? There's no way.

There is no way Nico's sister-from-a-different-mister can be working with Octavian.

"Jason?" he calls, even though he's right there; a bit of his fear must leak into his voice, because Jason's by his side in a second.

"What? What'd you find? Did you find anything?"

Nico points a finger at the book. "Always right after Hazel leaves. Always. The grave is shifting. I think you might've been onto something when you said that some cult was shifting it...but what if it wasn't a cult? What if this is all a distraction...because _right after Hazel leaves_ —"

"— Oh, my goodness." Jason gapes, looking at the book in shock and betrayal. "Oh, my fucking goodness."


	8. Chapter 8

**a/n: hate me yet for that cliffie? i am well aware of the extent of my evilness; also it seemed appropriate so my potty mouth decided to rear its head in the beginning of this chap**

 **also, i have left the PJO fandom. you can find details in** _ **don't forget me when i'm gone**_ **(on my profile). as such, i will probably be deleting** _ **Our Fandom Needs Fixing**_ **in a short while; don't know why, but it's got a lot more attention lately, and it's made me realize that we can't really do anything about this and that — well, it's kind of hypocritical of me to leave it up since i don't believe in that cause anymore.**

 **i will still be continuing this, though, so don't worry. this is just a life update for anyone who's interested.**

 **hope you enjoy this, i actually didn't procrastinate and i'm loving it**

. . .

"Oh, my fucking goodness, indeed," Nico agrees with Jason.

"How the — what the —?" Jason sputters, trying to comprehend the situation. Nico is very much familiar with the situation, because it's what he's doing now.

How could Hazel even _think_ of doing this? Of helping people _murder_ her classmates, of working with the same people who try to make her life a living hell? How heartless can she be to be involved in the murders of two high schoolers — to snatch their lives away and be complicit and not feel a thing but _pretend_ , with that shaking voice and stuttering, to be horrified?

Nico is the one horrified, now, because the entire thing is so disgusting and repulsive and cold that he's forced to sit down.

"How could she?" mutters Nico. "Why would she?"

Jason shoots up out of his stupor for a moment. "There — there must be an explanation. They — Bryce, Octavian — they're blackmailing her. Threatening her. They must be. They need to be. Hazel _cannot_ be working with them of her own free will, she must be, she has to be, under duress of some sort, that's the only way, she's such a sweet girl, and to think _we tried to set her up with Frank_ when she's working with murderers!" he rambles hysterically.

"Oh —" Nico gets an idea at the mention of Frank — an idea that chills him down to the bone, that instills fear and paranoia, more than he's already got, into his being. "What if Hazel's not the only one working with them? What if it's not just Hazel and the _entire_ group is working with them and they're all fine with it and they're all fucking murderers and _how deep does this run,_ Jason, the problem is we have no idea what's even going on here!" Nico's hysterical now, too, and unhinging himself, the wrapped twines of his mind unraveling all at once into a terrible fit of almost-insanity and _wondering, wondering,_ because they don't have all the pieces of this _damn, damn_ puzzle.

"Okay, okay, let's get calm," says Jason, trying to be the peacemaker, but still looking quite panicked himself. "What do we _know?_ "

"We know that Octavian and Bryce are always returning on Wednesdays and Fridays — and you check the graves on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and they've _always_ shifted," notes Nico. "So we can suspect that Bryce and Octavian are behind this whole plot, and Chiron had told me at the beginning of all this that organizations like this usually keep kids at the forefront of their plot because people always underestimate kids, I mean, who would think a kid's part of a nonsensical undead murder plan? They're probably working with someone, and they're creating diversions for them to access Queen Marie's grave. Which means I think they know that we know about the grave. Which is problematic and improbable."

"We don't know for sure if they're aware of anything I know," Jason points out. "So that's potentially something in our favor."

Nico nods. "Yeah, but I wouldn't count on it. I'm not sure…"

"About anything?" Jason finishes for him. "Yeah. I know the feeling."

Nico sighs, then, exhausted, confused, suspicious, and betrayed. "For now, all we can do is let this unfold. We know nothing about this organization. We know nothing about what they want. We can't engage them. So for now, we wait, and we pretend everything's fine, but we'll be waiting. We'll be there in the sidelines, and when the time comes, they're going to pay for the shit they've stirred."

Nico returns to his bed and Jason returns to his apartment, but both have steel in their eyes and iron in their hearts.

. . .

Nico and Jason are professionals at hiding their suspicion. Kind of.

It's harder for Nico, because he's so close to Hazel, whereas she barely interacts with Jason, which makes Nico's job that much worse. Hazel may have noticed that Nico smiles a lot less these days and that Nico is a little bit subdued, but she seems so invested in her own life and problems — which involve murders and zombies — that Nico doesn't think she'd notice either way.

Nico takes to surreptitiously observing her in a completely non-creepy way. Noting her behavior. Looking at the way her eyes scan the entire room for something, someone, that isn't there. The way she's taken to tapping her foot on the linoleum floors of the classroom, tapping her nails in a steady _patter, patter_ on the desk, as if she is waiting for someone or something.

He doesn't like it. Nico has his suspicions, that she's waiting for Bryce or Octavian or any one of their hidden minions.

They still walk together, still talk, and she still leaves right before either Lawrence or Octavian arrives; she seems especially jittery on Wednesdays and Fridays — the days when the bullies return and the days when the grave is shifting.

So _what, what, what_ is happening here?

— _Hazel behavior. Suspicious. ?_

— _Lawrence/Octavian, returning Wed/Fri. ?_

— _Hazel working with them?_

— _More deaths in news. Getting desperate? More zombie corpses to come?_

. . .

On other days Nico visits Queen Marie, and he always returns to Jason's apartment right after, showing him pictures. They spend time analyzing the photos fastidiously, fervently, like religion, looking for something, anything, that'll clue them in on more.

That Thursday, the stone has shifted again, and Nico's dead-radar is flaring again, stronger than before, and it makes Nico do a double-take and stare at the grave for a moment longer. There's more metal, he notes idly.

Something happened on Wednesday, but obviously Nico was occupied for it —

Which further proves Nico's suspicions, he realizes. Why is Nico occupied every time the grave shifts? And always after school? It's confirmed, now, really, in Nico's mind — Lawrence and Octavian are working with the murderers, and Hazel might be working with them.

Nico returns to the grave on Monday, not wanting to be potentially caught by the grave's disturber on a weekend — he doesn't know the schedule for those days, and when there's murder involved, it's probably best keeping it safe — and _again,_ the grave is leaning slightly to the right — on Thursday, it'd been leaning to the left.

He takes pictures for Jason, and notices again that there's more metal in it — and what's up with that? — but he knows that probably, nothing will yield from it. Still, it's best to be thorough.

But why is the grave suddenly shifting so often? This hadn't happened earlier in the year and it hadn't been so frequent, either. _Something important must be happening_ , Nico deduces, _but what is it?_

Nico stops by the local Walmart and grabs seven more pints of mint chip. The cashier raises an eyebrow at him during check-out, but Nico swipes his Agency credit card in the slot and soon he's off to the apartment.

He and Jason will need ice cream for the months to come.

. . .

Apparently, February turned to March and March had turned to April, and Nico and Jason have gotten absolutely nowhere. It's an odd thing when there's suddenly Spring Break all over the poster boards and then it's the last day before break and people are telling him to have a good one, and _You too._ It's all very confusing and disconcerting, because it _was_ Valentine's yesterday, wasn't it?

Nico and Will say their goodbyes amidst another hug; which is odd and unexpected, but Nico's grateful for it — he needs a hug, and Will seems to _know,_ because of course he does. He's Will, after all. Will Solace, future doctor and feelings master extraordinaire.

He and Jason are back at Agency headquarters for Spring Break. Nico expects he'll go all moony-headed over McLean again, but that gives him a little more time to go ballistic on this mystery alone.

Nico and Jason doubt there'll be a confrontation any time soon, and the evil on the horizons might not rest, but they sure as hell will — _sort of._

. . .

"Director Chiron, over the past few months, I've made a few disturbing discoveries," reports Nico. "Firstly, the oddity with the bodies in question involves this grave" — Nico slides his most recent picture of the grave, printed out and laminated (because Chiron is his _boss_ ) — "which is where the signal comes from."

Chiron squints at the picture, perhaps trying to place what exactly is so odd about it. Nico's familiar with the expression — having worn it about a million times and having seen it on Jason about a million times.

"The grave belongs to one Queen Marie, likely an alias, full and/or real name unknown," Nico continues. "The oddity got stronger a while back." He notes the worry line now creasing Chiron's forehead, tries to ignore it. "The life span of the woman was from 1909 to 1942, and the disturbing tagline reads _Death does not stop the committed._ The exact reason why I'm getting a signal is unclear; it leads me to believe someone must be using powers to dampen it…"

"This is worrisome news, Nico," says Chiron.

"I know. And I might have found out who's behind it." Nico raises a brow up at him.

"Who?" Chiron leans forward, intrigued.

"I don't have anything concrete," Nico prefaces, "but for the most part, it's suspicion that's well-placed. A boy known by Octavian — last name unknown — and his accomplice, Bryce Lawrence, tend to meet me after school, right after my...friend…" Nico uses the word reluctantly. "...Hazel Levesque leaves to go 'home.' I suspect Ms. Levesque is working with Octavian and Lawrence — while they distract me and keep me occupied, and it would be suspicious of me not to engage, Ms. Levesque is at the grave, doing something — Special Agent Grace and I have been unable to ascertain exactly what goes on there. However" — at this Nico pushes the manila file folder resting on the tempered glass table toward Director Chiron — "look at the grave's pictures side by side. I'd recommend you view the difference between the first one and the last one. As you'll notice, the grave shifts, and the small metals embedded into the stone seem to become more numerous, for reasons unknown." Nico watches for Chiron's reaction.

The man in question gazes down at the papers with analytical eyes, calculating, looking for the differences — but they widen ever-so-slightly once they find out, and that's Nico's clue in.

"I see," murmurs the Director. "I see…"

"Now, personally, I do not have a feasible explanation as to _why_ exactly the metallic changes happen. But I think I know why the grave is shifting," Nico offers. Chiron sits up a little straighter.

"Tell me what you have," he commands.

"Of course, Director," Nico obliges easily — because that's the entire point of this, isn't it? "I believe that the organization or possibly Ms. Levesque is using an entrance underground — underneath the shifting gravestone — to accommodate their dead. It would be really suspicious to have people known and marked as dead walking around on the street and in public, and conceivably, the space under the grave could be hiding the dead, depending on how far under it is."

"This theory, actually, makes quite a bit of sense," Chiron agrees. "It's definitely a consideration. But what worries me about this is the powers. If there is someone else with powers over the undead and they're using them to reanimate corpses and to dampen their own signal, it's highly likely that this organization or this person is very dangerous. It's been established that they are not opposed to murder, nor are they above killing kids and recruiting others. They must have some kind of big endgame in plan for them to go so far, and that is what bothers me the most about this whole thing. You need to be cautious, Special Agent. You will need to tread lightly on this whole thing, because — and let me be honest — we know next to nothing after this. We're in uncharted waters. We're dealing in danger. And we don't know what's coming."

The grim tone in his voice rings through the room, until Chiron finishes after a moment. "Good day, Special Agent di Angelo. This meeting has been most enlightening."

Chiron drives his wheelchair out of the minimalist gray-black Agency room, his words echoing in Nico's ears. A deep pondering state, a sense of wondering, curiosity, mingles with his already existent fear and paranoia, settling deep into his bones.


	9. Chapter 9

**a/n: this chapter is slightly longer because solangelo goodies lie ahead; i can't believe we're at the point where my slow burn ass is caving. there are maybe 5, 6 chaps till the end of this and i'm super super excited. to all my longtime readers, thanks for sticking through this! i run on your support and i'm really proud of myself for getting here. i still have the mystery to resolve and an epilogue, though, so keep with me and i hope this satisfies you**

 **sometimes i honestly can't tell if this is jasico or solangelo but im a sucker for jasico friendship (not romantic though, they're cousins which makes it kind of weird [even though i've unintentionally written a zoё/bob fanfic before not knowing they were related ahahah])**

 **this is** _ **so**_ **fluffy, i can't. i have never written this much sheer fluff before. i write aesthetic angsty shorts and i cannot do fluff so please tell me if you liked it oh gosh**

. . .

Nico returns to Riverside with caution.

Perhaps a little too much caution. He's looking over his shoulder constantly and he's always glancing around, looking for Octavian or Lawrence.

In fact, he's so far behind himself that he doesn't notice the pastel-green posters — that actually look aesthetically appealing this time — advertising the Spring Formal.

Jason is the one to spring him out of it. "Dude," he says over mint chip one day, "we both know that Will is an oblivious idiot, and that you're a wuss, so I'm going to have to push you to ask him to the Spring Formal — _so ask him, you stupid idiot._ " He looks incredibly smug and proud of himself for saying it, as if calling Nico and Will idiots in the same sentence is a major achievement. Nico might never understand Jason, but he does understand that Jason is a giant sap for romance and that he is a huge dork.

And then he hears about "Spring Formal."

Nico's about to laugh at him until the words register. "Wait. _Spring Formal?_ As in a dance? As in ask-your-crush, that kind of dance? Where you wear suits and bowties and such?"

Jason sighs. "Are you blind, Nico? I mean, I know your powers make you dyslexic and all, but don't you have glasses for that?"

"Blind? What does that have to do with anything?" Nico asks in confusion.

"You really didn't see the huge green signs plastered everywhere, did you?" Jason's voice is laced with disbelief. "Oh, dear. What am I going to do with you?"

"To be fair," defends Nico, "Director Chiron made me paranoid and I don't have time to look at the walls. I'm too busy looking for Octavian and Bryce and trying not to let my suspicion about Hazel leak through."

"To be fair," imitates Jason, "you're still hopeless. Now get off your lazy, cowardly 1940s ass and go get your man!"

. . .

So Nico doesn't ask Will and instead spends all of his opportunities just staring straight ahead in mute fear, and then he spends his class time thinking of that _blond_ hair. So what? It is a perfectly warranted reaction and it does not reflect any of his hopelessness at all.

Nico desperately wants to take Will to Spring Formal, but there are numerous issues with this:

What if Will is actually straight, despite what Jason tells him and Lou Ellen's "amazing gaydar" assurances? What if Will takes a _girl_ — oh, dear, what if he takes _Hazel?_ — to the dance and Nico is left pining in the corner and has to tag along as a third wheel to Jason and Special Agent McLean, and oh, goodness, that's how he's going to be, he's going to be a male old maid for the rest of his life.

And what if Will's _not straight_ but still doesn't want to go with him? That would be worse; it would not be a matter of preferences then, it would be that Nico isn't good enough and isn't that just sunshine and rainbows?

Then there is what is probably his worst horror story: What if Will is homophobic and throws slurs at him? What if Nico _still_ isn't able to get over his crush even if Will calls him a terrible name? What if Will tells him that God hates him and that he is going to go to Hell?

 _Then,_ Nico tells himself sternly, _you punch him in the face and you kick him in the balls and you will drag him down to Hell yourself._

Then there are the _fantasies_ — if they can be called that. Will decides to go with him and they end up sharing a slow dance and kissing passionately at the end of it; all the while those blue eyes are looking at him intensely and then Nico is running his fingers through that blond hair — it's soft and silky.

Nico chides himself for even thinking that — and he calls _Jason_ a dork. He's like a lovesick, horny teenage girl.

How terribly —

— No. Nico refuses to call himself terrible anymore. All he wants is to go out with Will. Not even _Will,_ really — just to have someone. Is that really such a bad wise to have?

. . .

Really, how is Nico supposed to focus when Will is smiling at him like that?

"Oh, and it's not even that hard!" Will scowls, lips turned down, and Nico has the urge to slap him for a moment, because _Can't you see that I am struggling to ask you out? Idiot!_ "But I can't stop procrastinating on this paper. I mean, my fingers are typing on their own and now — looky there, there's some bad angst fanfiction. I have to read it now. I am obligated to read it."

Nico laughs. He forgets about asking Will. How can he even muster up the courage to ruin _this?_ "So how about you _not_ type on your own and _not_ be obligated to read bad fanfiction?"

"But it's bad and that's the fun of it! Plus, overdramatic angst. I am a sucker for overdramatic angst. Shut up and stop _judging me_ " — Will is glaring playfully at Nico now, who is donning his _I am judging your terrible life decisions_ signature look with a side of _You're an idiot_ — "I can see your bitch face on, stop it, di Angelo —"

Nico cackles at the look on Will's face. Having friends is a nice experience.

How, how, how can he even think about changing this?

. . .

The tiny bit of progress he makes with himself still is of no consequence because the dance is in five days and Nico still has not even made a move at Will.

It's _so horribly frustrating,_ because Will seems to be dropping shady hints all over the place and his blond hair is shining these days — is that a new conditioner, of course it is, it must be — and even Hazel has grown frustrated with him.

"Just ask him out already." She glares at Nico a little bit angrily.

Nico bites down on his tongue to avoid screaming out his frustration and tries to resist the urge to knock Hazel down a peg or two. His anger at her betrayal stings still, and Nico does not forgive and forget. He remembers.

"It's harder than it looks," says Nico finally, settling on the words that mask his tone carefully. His words are etched in double-meaning. "I can't just stand there and listen to him and pretend...I can't just make myself ruin our friendship…"

Hazel rolls her eyes. "He likes you, you dimwit." She smacks his shoulder playfully; it takes all of Nico's willpower not to flinch away and glare at her disgustedly.

"You don't know that." Gently, he removes her arm from his shoulder — she'd kept her hand on him after smacking him, perhaps meant to be reassuring, but all Nico thinks with her hands touching him is _My skin is in contact with the skin of a murderer's._ It doesn't help that her hand is cold.

Hazel looks a bit hurt. "Are you alright, Nico? You seem...skittish, these days. Always looking around for something. Paranoid. Worried." She doesn't touch him again, put off by his slight rejection, but she trains her intense gold eyes on him — Nico just notices the similarities to Queen Marie's grave, the golden embeddings — and gazes at him with concern.

"I'm fine, Hazel," he half-lies. _Not fine around you._ "Just worked up over this whole dance thing. Coming out and everything."

Hazel clears up instantly, which is what Nico's counting on. "If you're having trouble," she says amicably, "you can always talk to me. I can't say I'll understand, but you have my number. Send a call."

Of course he does. He has the phone numbers of everyone he hangs out with at lunch sitting in his Agency-commissioned phone. It's a little tricky to use, but Nico manages and generally avoids texting people.

"Of course," he replies, but she does not offer one of her own — she ducks into her English class, but not before sending him a small smile. Nico smiles back, slight, fake, insincere; he can't become too suspicious.

Once he's out of her sight, Nico grimaces. He has just smiled at a murderer.

. . .

"What are you even afraid of?" Jason asks. "You _still_ haven't asked him out; there are four days and I'm worrying for your sanity."

Nico says nothing.

"So?"

Nico says nothing.

"Say something, Nico."

Still nothing.

"Nico —" Jason's voice has acquired a warning note.

"WhatifhehatesmeandhesaysI'mterribleohgoshJasonwhatifhe'sstraightwhatifIgetattackedforbringingaboytothedanceohgoshJason!" Nico blurts out finally, in a rapid string of jumbling words.

Somehow, Jason seems to understand the fast, hysterical speak, and says, "Nico, you are _stupid,_ " in what's probably the most decisive tone Nico has ever heard.

"What?"

"You are stupid," Jason repeats. "No one's going to hate you, you idiot. So you like guys. So some people aren't going to be too fond of that. There are still people that love you. And I know it's really not my place and that I don't know much about her, but do you think this is what your sister would want?"

Nico shoots up out of his seat — they're in his apartment and were gladly lounging on mint chip until a certain someone brings up a certain topic that is not to be discussed. "You can't —"

"— Hear me out," Jason says. "I know you're from a different time, but she was still your sister and nothing would've changed the fact that she loved you. And none of us here would hate you, either. Will is _so_ nice," he assures Nico, "and he would never, never judge you; you have people here who care about you and it would make you, us, and even your sister _much_ happier to see you take your chance. No one wants to see you miserable and pining and hopeless. So go out and muster up all your courage and ask him out, damn it. I don't have many more rousing speeches to give."

Nico laughs at him, and he won't admit it, but his eyes are a little bit watery. He'd been opposed to the mention of Bianca, but he realizes now that she wouldn't have wanted this — and that there are people who care, no matter what happens.

This is what it feels like to have a best friend; someone who's always there and someone who tells Nico when he's being an idiot and someone who will always stay firmly in his corner.

Jason scoffs then, looking at Nico's silent, happy tears, and pulls him into a hug.

Jason is warm and there's that fuzzy feeling again — not the tingly feeling of _Will Will Will_ but a comfortable, cozy _Jason_ and that _friendship_ thing Nico's so bad at.

"I'm going to do it," Nico whispers into Jason's chest, softly. "I'm going to do it."

. . .

Nico pulls what is probably the cheesiest move of all time: he gets to school extra early and plants a single scarlet red and very fragrant rose in Will's locker. Devoid of explanation. Nothing.

Jason is the one giving him a ride to school — because why walk anymore when there are free seniors at Nico's discretion? — and he eyes the rose with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"He'd better say yes," Nico thinks he hears Jason mutter very quietly under his breath.

Nico notes Will at lunch: there is a completely dopey smile plastered on his face — and is he _blushing?_

It's lunch already. He _should_ probably be over it by now.

Well, Nico has another trick up his sleeve.

Literally — there's another rose up his sleeve. He'd retrieved it before lunch and it'd been stuffed under his shirt all throughout fourth period. Nico is nothing if not prepared. (For Will, not the mysterious shadow deaths, of course.)

"Can we talk?" Nico asks Will, who is staring at the ceiling in thought. "Will?" He waves a hand at the face of the aforementioned.

"Wha'?"

"Can we talk?" repeats Nico patiently.

"Of course," says Will obligingly, getting up out of his seat and leading Nico to the hallway. They meander silently — mostly because this is kind of awkward — over to Will's locker.

"Well, um," Nico starts, but he's already failing at this whole 'confident approach' he's trying. "I was — um, I had to — had to ask you — um. Something," he finishes lamely.

"Yeah?" asks Will, curious.

"Uhm, ahm," flounders Nico, using terrible, terrible filler words. "I was wondering if you — you wanted to — uhhm. Go — go —" Nico tries to choke the words out, but can't.

Goodness, he is horrible at asking people out. Nico should be in jail for crimes against humanity with this stuttering filler word usage he has.

"Oh, screw this," he mutters angrily. Nico withdraws the rose from his sleeve — it's not pristine, but it doesn't look like a gross rose only an uncivilized barbarian would give to someone, so whatever — and watches Will's face morph from confusion to astonishment to understanding. "Will you just go to the stupid Spring Formal with me?" It's easier to say now that Will knows his intentions.

Will laughs. He legitimately laughs in Nico's face — not with malice, but he's laughing nonetheless.

"What?" Nico scowls. Oh, dear. Will _is_ straight and he's laughing at Nico's obvious _non-_ straightness, oh dear, what if he says "Go date Jason instead" or something terrible like that?

"Oh, my goodness, Nico." Will has calmed down. Nico awaits the storm. "Of course I'll go with you, idiot."

"Yeah, I get it —" Nico starts to say, but then Will's words catch up with his ears and then he squawks, "What?"

" _But,_ " Will adds, "only if you'll do something for me."

Now, Nico's heart stops. _Oh, my gosh, is he going to ask for_ those _kinds of favors? Oh, my gosh, I'm trying to get with a_ predator, _oh, in the name of all that is holy, please don't let Will be working with Octavian and Hazel —_

"You'll have to be my boyfriend. I'm not looking for — like, a hookup or anything — but Nico di Angelo, will you do the honor of being my boyfriend?" Will asks instead.

Nico's heartbeat resumes. "You dork," he accuses. "I thought you were going to turn out to be secretly creepy and try to — you know — with me and oh, my gosh, you are _such_ a dork and oh, my, gosh, yes!"

"Wait," Will pauses, face falling. "You seriously thought I was going to —?"

"Okay, but to be fair, you had that kind of 'favor' tone about you and it was a little bit creepy, tone down on that —"

Will punches his shoulder lightly.

"You are an _amazing_ boyfriend," Nico decides. "Your first act in this relationship was punching me in the shoulder." He puts a hand to his heart in a gesture of mock-hurt. "Will, you disappoint me."

"Oh, really?" Will purrs. "How about I make it up to you?"

"Yeah?" Nico teases.

Will leans in and Nico breathes his scent in — somehow, he manages to smell like sunshine — not literally, of course, but there's that kind of aura about it, warm and a little bit happy.

Their lips connect — and it's Nico's _first kiss._ That just dawns on him.

It's not even that amazing, really, and Will isn't _that great_ of a kisser, but Nico probably isn't either, and it's fine because Will's arms are around his neck and Nico can smell that slightly lavender-ish smell of his cologne — decipherable now because of their extreme proximity — and _oh, gosh,_ that hair is really silky smooth. It's just perfect.

(And if Nico drags Will away from his locker after school for a little _more_ kissing, well. They're just improving their technique. And who can really blame him? Will has _amazing_ hair and Nico needs more of it running through his fingers.)


	10. Chapter 10

**a/n: ahhh this is kind of the chapter that sets up the future drama...we're getting very close to the end here; this one's a couple hundred words shorter than normal but the next few chapters (and the** _ **solangelo**_ **in this one) will more than make up for it**

 **i know this seems like another really fluffy chapter, but stay with me, i promise it gets better next few chaps.**

 **enjoy! tell me your thoughts on this chapter, i'd love to hear them and any feedback you've got!**

. . .

Dating Will Solace, Nico realizes, is amazing.

They'll go on dates often. Sometimes they'll go out and eat and maybe watch a movie — cuddle a bit, but not too much; they take things slow — and sometimes they go to Nico's house, eat through his entire stash of ice cream (although Nico keeps the case rooms hidden and makes sure Will doesn't go there) — other times they'll be at Will's house.

Naomi Solace is his mom's name; he doesn't have a dad, Will informs him, but he'd been told that his dad was a surgeon — hence the need to follow in his footsteps. Miss Solace is super sweet and really accepting of Nico and Will; she trusts them enough to be alone and she's just overall so _kind_ it really puts Will's personality into perspective for Nico.

One thing's for sure: every time Nico and Will spend time together, Nico ends the night with a goofy grin on his face. He loves that feeling.

. . .

Nico _tries,_ he really does — to keep an eye on Queen Marie's grave, watch out for Octavian and Lawrence — who've been strangely absent for a while — while juggling Will, Jason, and schoolwork — not to mention the legitimate zombie murders out there.

So, realistically, of course he ends up lagging off and spending his free time with Will. Nico needs a break. Nico has worked so hard, he figures, he deserves this for the work he's done and the conclusions he's made. He has helped the Agency so much, damn it, so he will take his time off.

This is not the best choice, but Nico's smitten and he really just is so totally done with this spy thing.

Which gets him to his next dilemma: once the mystery is solved and the case is packed up, Nico and Will might have to separate as Nico leaves for the Agency. Of course, he'd still have loads of free time — this case is one of the very few he's gotten since his Minos mission, so perhaps he might get by here at Riverside permanently, but Nico's not really sure about that one and it worries him a bit.

He doesn't dwell on it. Nico isn't going to spend the end of the school year worrying.

And — sure, Jason's assisting on this case, so he's got some Agency stuff to do, but it's paperwork only since he's on a case, so he can pick up Nico's slack no problem.

There hasn't been anything on the grave front in a long time. It's nothing, at least for now.

Nico's not worried about that.

. . .

The dance is just amazing.

Hazel brings Frank — Nico doesn't like it, but he sighs internally and moves on; it isn't any of his business who she dates, even if she _is_ a murderer — Lou Ellen and Cecil are somehow going together, Austin and Kayla are with each other because they couldn't find dates —

"We're _half siblings,_ obviously we're not dating," Kayla explains to a befuddled Will.

Jason has brought his girlfriend, Piper McLean — Nico needs to stop thinking of her as Special Agent McLean, but old habits die hard — and the two look so hideously in love Nico'd be disgusted if that didn't make him a hypocrite — because he probably looks the same with Will.

Octavian is apparently taking _Lawrence_ to the dance — and they look immensely uncomfortable with each other. Nico guesses they don't have any dates either.

Will tries to 'warn' him: "I have two left feet and I will be tripping all over you for the entire night, so just a bit of a fair warning if you don't want sore toes and would like to walk tomorrow — am I rambling again? I'm sorry, it's just, I've never had a boyfriend before and —"

"— Will." Nico places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He hesitates for a moment, but finally Nico places a light peck on Will's lips to assure him even further. "It's fine. I don't mind. I mean, your eyes are super super pretty so I'd get stepped on a thousand times to keep looking at them."

Will has a blush dusting his cheeks — if it's from Nico's words or his kiss, he's not sure, but he likes it anyway.

Nico doesn't really like dancing and he grumbles a bit — but not too much, because _this is Will, and Will Will Will_ — when it's time for them to slow-dance, and true to his word, Will steps all over him and Nico's a little bit sore, but Will is beaming the entire time, and that just makes everything worth it.

If this is what it feels like to be in love — yeah. Nico's whipped and he is _totally_ in love, and he finds he doesn't quite mind it after all.

. . .

So he should probably expect it, but it all goes wrong soon enough.

After nearly three weeks off, Octavian and Lawrence — both! In the flesh! — return after school — on a Tuesday, as per routine — while Nico's with Will.

"Hey, di Angelo, how's your _boyfriend?_ " taunts Lawrence.

"Better than you," Will says immediately.

Octavian scoffs. "That all you got?"

"Again, I got more than you," Will shoots back.

"Di Angelo," Lawrence sighs, "no need to bring your boyfriend into this. It's between us. You're just a freshie who doesn't know his place. Your sophomore buddy doesn't need to get into this, really." He looks at Will. "Or are you really willing to go this far for your boyfriend?"

"Nico is amazing and ten times the guy you'll ever be," snaps Will angrily. "How about you move the hell along and go harass someone who will actually take your —"

He's cut off by an angry — yet still infuriatingly calculated — punch to the face. Nico thinks Octavian might even have _scratched_ Will with his long, nimble fingers — that are apparently better for more than just sitting there — he's smirking, the bastard, and Nico feels a rush of fury.

They can poke him around and make fun of _him_ all they want, but going there with Will is crossing a line.

Nico rushes right up to Octavian and speaks. He doesn't raise his voice — he's not that kind of person, really. He prefers intimidation — and that's what he's about to do. He is about to instill such a fear in Octavian that it will burn through even Nico's white-hot anger.

"You really want to do that?" Nico hisses lightly and threateningly. The best threats, he knows, are the quietly scary ones — the ones where no one needs to raise their voice but the message is clear. "You really want to go there again?"

Octavian narrows his eyes at Nico. "Yeah," he says, "and I will —"

"No, you won't." Nico holds up a hand to silence him. "I'm well aware you're an _idiota_ with nothing better to do, but if you mess with me or Will again — I promise — there will be consequences. As in — consequences your rich daddy can't fix." What he's going to say next is probably not the best idea, but it's subtle and shady, which will definitely leave Octavian and Lawrence wondering what he means and hopefully cow them into submission. "I know you're well aware of what I mean — so stay the hell away from us, or there will be _grave_ problems for you."

A brief bit of shock appears on Octavian's face — and a minute later, Lawrence's — because who are they to say Nico's referring to Queen Marie? His words might be choice, coincidence, and emphasis — or they might not be.

And that suspicion, that shock? It's what Nico is banking on.

. . .

"What did you do?" Will asks Nico when they're at his house. Nico had had Jason go off to the pharmacy and get medical supplies, and currently Nico is dabbing at the small cut — Octavian apparently has sharp nails — at Will's forehead with some antiseptic and a cotton ball. "With Octavian? How'd you get him to back off?"

"Simply," Nico mutters, ignoring Will's hiss at the sting of the liquid on his wounds, "blackmail."

" _You blackmailed Octavian?_ " wonders Will incredulously. "With what?"

"Let's just say I picked some stuff up," answers Nico vaguely.

"Oh, my goodness," Will gasps. "You realize how risky that was?"

"You're one to lecture me about _risk._ " Nico rolls his eyes, although he'll admit he's still a little bit worried. "You went up there, and sure, it was nice and all and really brave and gallant of you to defend my honor or whatever, but it was a little bit _too_ noble and look where that got you." He dabs a bit more antiseptic harshly onto Will's injuries — Will sucks in a sharp breath.

"Okay," he says softly and a little roughly, "you really can't do this, Nico."

"Oh, and you can?" Nico raises a brow at Will.

Will snatches the antiseptic bottle from Nico, and begins to dab at his forehead with dexterity, his nimble hands much more gentle than Nico's.

"I'm in training to be a surgeon," explains Will, "of course, you knew that — but well, it's advanced to a point where this is child's play" — he shoots a playful glare at Nico — "so _yes,_ actually, I can do it better than you."

"I concede." Nico raises his hands above his head.

Nico's still incredibly proud — of his _boyfriend._

It feels good.


	11. Chapter 11

**a/n: oh my gods. i'm just so, so shocked that we're here already. this is the beginning of the end, and oh my fucking gods i can't believe we're here and i'm just shocked, stunned, i can't even comprehend.**

 **i just want to thank everyone who's stuck with this story from the very beginning. your dedication to my story just astounds me. i'm in shock. this fic is my** _ **baby**_ **and i can't believe it's coming to an end**

 **including this one and the epilogue we have** _ **five**_ **chapters left to go! there are going to be a solid 15 chaps to this and i'll mark it complete and *tears of joy* my baby's leaving the nest oh gods**

 **hope you enjoy :)**

. . .

So, it's a little bit suspicious that Will is sick two days right after the whole attack from Octavian and Lawrence. It would've been understandable if he'd been absent the day _immediately after,_ but he comes to school on Wednesday and, aside from a bandage on his forehead, is as cheery as ever.

Will's absent on Thursday, though. Has his injury developed an infection?

"It's so weird," Lou Ellen mutters at the lunch table. It feels empty, the blue of it not quite blue, the hard wood not as solid, the stripes duller. It's quieter, more solemn too, without Will and his sunshine there.

Nico misses him, but it's just _one day off._ Nothing serious. Nothing to worry about.

(Nico isn't worrying because Will has never missed a day of school, nope, not at all; not to mention the fact that Octavian injured him…)

"I know, I called him and his mom picked up," Kayla says sullenly. "Will's never been sick." She looks oddly worried, almost abnormally so, and so does Austin, Nico notices. "Will _doesn't_ get sick." There's a bit of a quaver in her voice, as if it is _impossible_ for Will to get sick and that it should not be happening at all.

Hazel frowns. "I mean, shouldn't everything be alright? It's probably just a cold or a fever or something, he'll be back in no time."

Nico is reluctant to agree with Hazel, but it's the rational thing to do, and she's the one making the most sense. Kayla and Austin, however, give him pause, looking as if they know something he doesn't and that it's just _wrong_ for Will to get sick.

Frank steps in as mediator, beating Nico's backing of Hazel. He's relieved he can delay his speaking. "It feels wrong, I know...but I mean, he _will_ be back, it's not the end of the world. We're being irrational here."

Kayla purses her lips, creasing them, and Austin presses his mouth into a thin line. Both of their bodies are _screaming,_ as if saying, _You don't understand!_

Lou sighs. "It's just...really quiet. Unnerving, especially with all the murders and stuff going on here. I'm worried."

Nico understands the feeling. "Yeah," he agrees. "I'm a _bit_ worried as well. But you know, it's just a sick day. Will's going to be back." _He has to._

"He will," Hazel says with resolve.

Nico doesn't like that look in her eyes. Nico doesn't like her eyes at all, with their striking resemblance to Queen Marie and her grave, their unnatural golden-amber hue, catching the light in what he'd thought was odd but now is just creepy and sends shivers down his spine.

It's Thursday, anyway. He can't go to the grave for fear of confrontation, and it's been a few months anyway. Nico doubts there are going to be leads arriving any time soon.

So for Thursday, everything's all good. Everything's fine.

It's not on Friday, though, because Will still isn't back. Nico supposes he probably needs time for healing, but something just strikes him the wrong way about everything.

But Nico still goes to school, dismissing the feeling, and Nico makes his way through the day, resolving to stop by Will's house later to ask and see how he's doing. Nico's a good boyfriend, after all, and he's going to do what he can for Will.

So after suffering through all his classes and waiting, waiting, waiting, Nico finds himself at Will's doorstep. His apartment is on the fifth floor of some building Nico can't remember, but it's metallic and a little bit old, yet somehow cozy nonetheless. It's probably the yellow, Nico muses, and the naturally inviting forms of the Solaces.

Nico takes a decisive step forward. He raps on the door — _one, two, three_ times exactly.

The door opens after _one, two, three, four_ beats, and then it swings in to reveal a tired-looking Naomi Solace.

Naomi Solace seems to be half-Asian, to Nico at least — she has the trademark silky black hair, but she's a little bit tanner and her eyes aren't as pronouncedly Asian as, say, Frank's — today her eyes are puffy, a little bloodshot, and red, gray bags resting underneath her normally cheerful and kind disposition.

"Hi, Miss Solace — I heard Will was sick and I just came to check up on him," Nico says to her.

She doesn't say anything, but she shakes her head, and swallows nervously. _No._

"Wh —"

Nico doesn't continue at the look on her face. She seems strained, sad, and a little bit resigned. Nico decides to wait for her to speak.

 _One, two, three, four, five_ moments pass before she begins.

"Will isn't here," she musters finally, voice choking a little.

"What do you mean, 'Will isn't here?'" Nico asks confusedly.

"I mean that." Miss Solace dabs at her eyes — slightly moist, Nico notices — and stands up a little straighter, jaw tightening. "He's gone."

"Gone?" repeats Nico incredulously. _He's gone? No, he wouldn't just_ leave... _how…?_

"He — he ran."

"He _ran?_ " Nico echoes again with more surprise. "He didn't — he couldn't —"

"He left a note, if you'd like to see it," she offers. "I know how much he meant to you."

"Yeah," says Nico. "I — I want to know."

She ushers him inside — the apartment has yellow paint, beige furniture, a splash of black here and there — overall quite artsy, but Nico doesn't care for it: his heart is thrumming instead, not the _Will Will Will_ it's gotten used to, but _Will. Will. Will._

 _Where is Will?_

Miss Solace takes her ginger hands — Will inherited them, an artist's fingers — and hands Nico a note.

Yellow note paper, Nico notices ruefully.

 _To whom it may concern,_ the note begins.

Right there, Nico knows something is wrong. This isn't Will's style. This isn't Will at all. This is someone else, some impostor, someone _else —_

But he reads on.

 _You might be wondering where I am. Why I've run away. The answer is, quite simply, because_ I'm trapped. _I can't be free here. I'm miles underground, miles from where I should be —_

Nico stops reading. He stares at the note, full of words but blank nonetheless, with a vacant, empty stare.

Nothing is right here. Will has always wanted to be a surgeon, to help people, to make a difference. He's never been _underground_ —

 _Wait…_

Nico realizes then. _I'm trapped._

The letter isn't just waxing poetic at him. It's sending him a message. Nico can swear he knows who wrote it.

 _Will. Will. Will._

Nico knows just where he is. Goodness, he's been stupid, wrapped up in laziness and fantasies, thinking all this time that nothing would happen and that the case could _wait._

This is Nico's fault.

"Oh, my goodness."

"Nico, are you — you okay?" asks Miss Solace.

"Will didn't run away…" Nico murmurs softly.

"What?" She turns to look at him sharply.

" _I'm trapped...underground...miles from where I should be…_ "

"Nico, dear," says Miss Solace, looking at him worriedly, "you're not making any sense."

Nico's made a little more aware of her presence at her words; he turns to look at her more closely, and he sees an innocent woman in her eyes, one who did not ask to be involved in any of this and managed to entangle herself anyway — because of him.

Nico can't allow it.

"No...I just can't believe…" he lies. "I — trying to explain it…"

"Will you be fine?" she asks with concern.

Look at her. She's lost her son and she's thinking about _Nico._

 _Because you're the closest thing she has to a son left,_ he finds himself discovering. _You're all she has._

 _No,_ Nico answers that cynic voice in his head. _I refuse to let it be that way. I'm going to find Will._

"I have to go," Nico says abruptly. "I — I need some space," he elaborates.

"Of course," Miss Solace replies obligingly. "Take all the time you need."

"Thank you," he tells her. "For letting me know."

He makes to move out, and he does, almost at the door, until something makes him pause, just a bit. Nico wants to remember.

Naomi Solace watches him with those resigned eyes of hers, as if she knows deep down that something is going to happen.

"Stay safe, Nico," she calls before he leaves.

Nico smiles. "Will do, Miss Solace —"

"— Naomi," she says. "Call me Naomi."

. . .

First, Nico needs Jason.

"They have Will," he calls into Jason's gray apartment, identical to his but much more organized and with much less ice cream.

"Who has Will?" Jason stumbles out of his room to face Nico, his blond hair not all neat and tidy for once, clothes — _Star Wars_ pajamas, really, with Stormtroopers printed on them — rumpled and his face a tad gaunt.

He'd probably been taking a power nap. Good. He'll need all the rest he can for this.

It's time.

"Octavian, Lawrence, Hazel, the grave people."

"What?"

"We've been so stupid and wrapped up in our own problems we've neglected the grave. When was the last time we'd been so diligent?" Nico scoffs.

"Right before Spring Break," answers Jason, "but now it's almost June, really."

"Exactly," Nico says. "And now they've got Will and it's _my fault._ I got lazy —"

"— And so did I," Jason mutters. "It's not just your blame. We're a team so we can pick up our slack. And we were both slacking."

Nico sighs, and so does Jason. They face a dilemma.

Jason looks at Nico for a moment, studying him, but then he says, "Let's go. We need to find Will."

They leave — Jason wearing pajamas, of all things — but they leave with steel in their eyes and iron in their hearts.

. . .

The gravestone is different, they notice almost immediately and with awe.

Nico's breath catches, and Jason's grows heavier. This is what they've been missing.

It is almost entirely golden, the metallic finish gleaming and shining, with one solid obsidian-black bit and a few silver specks dotted into it. The original ivory off-white shade of the grave is there, but just one patch left.

 _QUEEN MARIE_ now has a bronze-like quality about it, glimmering in the sunlight.

It's pretty. It hides ugly truths.

Nico and Jason exchange looks. They have resolve, and it is steel, it is metal like the gravestone.

They exchange looks that are about to dethrone Queen Marie. She's going to be done. And they're going to get Will back.

Nico takes a deep breath; he can hear Jason exhale a bit loudly.

He knows what he has to do.

He pushes the gravestone back.

To Nico's surprise, it slides easily, revealing a staircase — off-white-ivory marble, just like the original gravestone, they spiral down into who-knows-what.

"Well," Jason says quietly, staring deep into the innards of the grave, into what Nico would probably call something like a void, "what are we waiting for?"

. . .

There's no one inside, but there is a tingly feeling in Nico's gut, telling him to _Go back. This isn't your place,_ and to _Flee, now. This isn't where you should be,_ but there's another part of him saying, _This is your birthright. Stay._

He listens to the third one. Nico's got that feeling, pins and needles striking his side, the feeling that comes when one is doing something they know they shouldn't be. But there is no backing out now.

 _It's your fight or flight response,_ Nico tells himself. _And you are going to stay and fight and get Will back to Naomi and to you._

Nico's senses are flaring. Undead and dead and life meld together into the pumping of Nico's heartbeat, a rising _thump thump thump thump-thump thump_.

The entire place sets Nico on edge, and judging by Jason's overly tense frame beside him, he can say the same for his companion. The place is a collection of paradoxes: a mess of corridors, but they are perfectly organized; the dead and the living in the same place. The white-but-not-quite color. The perfect gold accents along the stair rims. The silvery walls with swirling bits of black and chrome forming a marble effect; the aesthetic appeal of everything. It's so perfect it's wrong.

Nico can feel the undead gathered in one corridor, but then his line of sight is drawn to something in his peripheral vision: continuous flashes of light.

The light is an oddity in the unlit rooms — they're bright enough to see in but still quite dark. The striking image of the brightness draws Nico closer. He can feel Jason's footsteps and breathing behind him, also pulled in by the mysterious light.

Nico can hear grunts coming from the corridor.

He and Jason arrive at a door; silver, with bronze-gold gargoyles on pillars surrounding either side of the large entrance.

With one shared glance, they burst the door open.

The room is large, airy, elliptical, with the same marble-granite pattern as the outside rooms; the light flashing draws Nico's gaze up and to the blond person fighting Hazel and someone who looks a little like Bianca, with the same black hair; not very silky but still smooth-looking, the same olive skin, and the dark eyes very reminiscent of their father —

 _Wait._

It's _Will_. Hazel...and Nico's dead sister, Bianca.

Will has his arms thrown out, summoning light and whipping it at — skeletons: skeletons summoned by Hazel and Bianca.

Nico and Jason exchange confused, incredulous looks. Jason knows what Bianca looks like from Agency files, of course, and they're both incredibly baffled.

"Will?" Nico calls tentatively, and the fighting stops as his boyfriend, once-friend, and sister all turn around to face him and Jason. "Hazel... _Bianca?_ What are you all —"

Jason finishes for him. "— Doing here?"


	12. Chapter 12

**a/n: i'm well aware y'all are shook. you're welcome :)**

 **in honor of the** _ **end**_ **(choking up internally, my baby is almost over we have four more chapters to go including this one ohhhhhhh) i'll be responding to reviews sent recently down below. ffn was being really annoying with reviews but they're back up so that's amazing :)**

 **they'll be at the bottom because i don't like long a/ns at the top aha, and yes i will be doing this till we reach the end**

 **review if you please, i'll answer for sure :)**

. . .

Bianca turns to face him. Recognition illuminates her face, almost shadowed but still visible in the large room. "Nico," she breathes, not elaborating or providing any answers. Nico is not sure he wants them. He doesn't want to believe Bianca is in league with Hazel and Octavian and Lawrence. _He can't believe it._ It's not true, it's not supposed to be. He's already lost his sister in everything but blood to them. He will not believe that his biological sister is working with them, too.

It's fake. It's a trick. It can't be. They are not working together. Bianca is not killing people. Bianca's eyes are dark but they are the same eyes as they've always been, they are the eyes Nico grew up with —

Nico is fooling himself, he knows. Everyone's thoughts are racing, though, he is quite sure. Trying to make sense of the situation. The fight between Will, Hazel, and Bianca has momentarily halted, but Nico thinks it will restart soon enough.

Hazel narrows her eyes at them, but something is off about the gesture. "So you showed," she mutters.

"Yeah." Nico scowls back at her. "We showed."

"How did you —" Will starts, but then says, "I — okay." Evidently he is confused about the entire thing, wondering how Nico and Jason know the mysterious girl with the dark eyes and about Hazel, who's betrayed them all, Hazel who's pulled the wool over his eyes and everyone else's.

Will has powers. That's an odd revelation. But it makes sense, of course. It makes so much sense now that Nico thinks about it. The constant light, his sunshiney demeanor and cheerful personality. Perhaps the healing is a factor in it too, how Will is so talented with that kind of thing.

Nico has no right to judge. He and Will have clearly been keeping their secrets from each other and it'd be hypocritical of him to criticize his boyfriend for the exact same things he does. So Nico ignores the slight sting in his chest that Will is undoubtedly also experiencing. Now is not the time. The time is later and in private and in a healthy way where both of their questions can be answered.

Nico can tell the fight is unfair: it's double the darkness against one beacon of light. And Will is running out of energy, whereas the girls have obviously been more trained and have more numbers, so different amounts of force fall on each of them to combat Will. And Will must take all of the battle, not even the _brunt_ of it. He'd taken them on solitarily, alone, with nothing but his light to combat their powers.

But that's not enough, it won't be for two highly trained people who've obviously learned how to hone their powers. Sometimes it takes fire to fight fire.

 _Will won't be fighting alone, not anymore_ , Nico thinks with resolve and persistence. He came here for Will and he's going to support him. If his sister is a murderer he will fight her and she can see about that.

He runs toward his boyfriend. He raises his arm. Nico can feel a tug in his gut, the _power_ he hasn't harnessed in a long time. The dead, the undead, everything about them. It fills his core and the dead call to him, beckoning, _Master, prince…_

That feeling rises from the ground; it forms something tangible as bones collect themselves and connect into a distinct shape: the human skeleton.

"Let's make this even," Nico tells the girls challengingly.

"Not a chance!" exclaims Jason, blinking out of the stupor he was momentarily in. "I'm coming too." He is an odd sight to befall in his pajamas but there is a look in his eyes no one can deny him and there is a stance to him — that of a fighter — that no one will challenge him.

Bianca scowls, twitching a finger, and the skeleton she'd been controlling, previously a bit limp after Will destroyed it with his light, reforms and perks up. It's taxing work, Nico knows, and as such Bianca and Hazel, as well as Nico, can only make a few at a time. It's impressive she managed it with a finger's twitch, but it is not the movement that matters; it is the method.

Nico tells his creation, "Fight them."

He motions with his arms and two more skeletons assemble themselves out of the dirt. Jason spares him a little trouble with moving it and directs the winds — being the son of Jupiter, having his air powers — to guide the skeleton.

Will smiles. He raises his now glowing hands.

"Sweet," Nico says appreciatively.

"I could say the same to you." Will nods at the skeletons, now in full fighting mode against the others' dead.

The skeletons clash, bumping into each other, carpals colliding with one another, falling off and returning to their original spots. Nico's skeletons kick at Bianca's and Hazel's, but their opponents dodge the hits swiftly, rolling and disassembling themselves out of the way. Will helps Nico's skeletons, concentrating his light with an impressive precision at the enemy skeletons, and Nico lends a bit of his strength into his creations. Jason creates air resistance against their opponents, making it harder for them to move. They've got a numerical strength and they have a bit of a tactical strategy as well — _Whatever it takes to get them down. Fight dirty._

Despite Nico's advantages, however, Hazel and Bianca hold their own. They both fight in tandem, if not more synchronized than Nico's team. Moving their hands up simultaneously, their training and the sheer number of skeletons and zombies they're able to produce almost overpowers Nico's work. Will flashes light at Nico periodically, healing his power-induced "wounds" — if they could qualify as those. Mostly Nico is sapped for strength and he finds himself a little more shadowy than normal, weaker and a bit frailer.

The scene before them is odd and would be almost frightening to an outsider. Light amidst the darkness with winds being controlled and teenagers raising the undead in practically a palace setting, full of gold and ivory, black marble and swirling silver, the domed ceiling reflecting a story — one of black against white, of dark against light.

There are no knives, no guns, no blasts; there is no conflict among the people themselves, but there are factors they add to in the skeletons' fight as the dead swoop around one another. Each person stands at the sidelines, letting the dead make their moves like chess pieces. Maybe it is cowardly, and maybe they do not care. Everyone has resolve glinting on their face and everyone fights with the intention of winning. Only one side will emerge victorious in the end, though, and Nico thinks it may just be his evil sister who does.

Nico is curious and he is baffled and he cannot take it anymore. He cannot keep wondering why his sisters turned to this place. They are good people, he knows in his heart.

 _Are they?_ wonders a small part of him, the cynical voice who thinks people are out to get him, the part of him that thinks friends are a waste of time and that no one is trustable but himself. Nico regards this part of him sometimes a lot more than he'd like — actually considering the bitter words. Oh, he might not act on them, but Nico listens to them none the same..

He does not speak of his own volition — his words bubble with a life of their own.

"Why are you doing this?" The words echo around the grand room. It makes them sound a little bit hollow, Nico thinks dimly.

"I am a soldier," Bianca replies. There is by no means a ceasefire, but the battle seems distant. Will and Jason are fighting, and the skeletons are fighting. Perhaps they are listening with one ear and fighting with their hands. Nico doesn't care; he just needs his answers. "I serve the Earth Mother. She made me great and I will repay the favor." She speaks stiffly, harshly, as if it pains her throat to get the words out and she has to choke on her own breath to say them. She pauses in between words at random intervals, as if she must force her voice box to enunciate.

"This is so weird. This is beyond creepy," Jason murmurs under his breath, but Nico can hear him somehow. "This is some kind of cult."

Ignoring him, Nico breathes almost disbelievingly, "But you died...Bee, you died…" He cannot believe she's here. She'd been taken. He remembers that night, the night he'd run and it was his fault and the night she'd died. Nico remembers all too well. She is not supposed to be alive.

"The Hunters did kill me," she confesses. "And then they brought me here, where they could hone my power, make me alive again, all thanks to the Earth Mother's ace in the hole...none other than our wondrous little Hazel…" Her tone is slightly bitter, slightly enraged, but overall calm. Nico does not care, because _of course_ it's been Hazel. Hazel, the precious power play who'd manipulated him...Hazel, Hazel.

"Since when has it even _been_ Hazel?" Will asks in confusion. So he isn't up to date on his friend being a murderer — of course, Nico rationalizes, why would he be? He has no reason to suspect Hazel in anything.

"I have been working with the earth mother for a while now. Gaea is great and she will bring us glory." Hazel recites the lines flatly, as if it is something memorized — and for that matter, so does Bianca…

"You're being forced to work for her — this Gaea lady," Nico realizes in horror. His sisters...they're not murderers. They're under duress. Or they'd be madly raving right now, foaming at the mouth for a chance to kill him and end the Agency's plans. And Nico feels horrible, horrible, for assuming things about his sisters, for thinking they'd willingly work with her, for making those terrible inferences. "You weren't betraying us…"

"I was right." Jason gasps. "My conspiracy was right, Hazel's not working for them."

"Gaea is great," Bianca echoes Hazel, but her tone has dropped somewhat, as if she desperately wants to give up the gig, but _can't_. "And she will bring us glory."

"Stop," Nico says, pained. "Stop saying that. You can drop the act, you know...I'm here, I'm your brother…"

But Bianca and Hazel press on, sad-faced but determined

The skeleton fight steadily drains Nico; it's been going on all this while, but he's tiring and Will is tiring, too, and he can tell _everyone_ is tired but the girls have more stamina.

Nico needs an edge, something that can summon armies —

— _Armies —_

Nico has enough energy for one last thing.

He waves his arm, summoning the inky shadows; the fighting doesn't quite pause but it doesn't quite continue either, but there's something in his hands that the shadows have deposited.

The Scepter. After all the time in his closet and then in the shadows. It's here, solid, with the obsidian orb on top glowing with Nico's power, the coincidentally ivory-colored shaft matching the walls.

"What — what's that? What're you doing?" asks Will in concern.

"Nico, are you sure that's safe —" interjects Jason worriedly.

"It'll save our asses," remarks Nico dryly, and he thrusts the scepter up high, and there is a burst of power surging through him — he can feel so many bodies and skeletons animating to life, under him, more than ever before, a new feeling, his gut swirling with sheer power and ability and the _darkness_ — everything feels like it is at _his_ command.

An army of the dead, skeletons and necrotic flesh, rises, slowly erecting itself into a formation of his subjects.

Nico breathes, then tells the group, "I can free you guys...if you'll let me."

. . .

 **oh yes i did, i brought out the scepter. it's been there since chapter one; it's a minor detail but at the very beginning there's a brief scene where nico looks at it and stashes it in the shadows — yeah that wasn't just a word count scene. i was saving it for this chapter.**

 _ **review responses (and we got so many so thank y'all for reviewing! this was a lot more than usual idek why aha) —**_

 _ **from ch 4:**_

 **Celestial Iris: it's with the help of supporters like you that i've stuck with this story, so thank you for that :)**

 _ **from ch. 10:**_

 **DiAngelo646: thank you, i'm glad you liked it; i'm really hesitant to write fluff because i'm an angst addict so i love that you enjoyed :) hope this chapter was satisfying**

 **herecomesthepun: thank you! i'm glad to hear you liked it especially because you're so famous and i am a groveling peasant on the ground ahah**

 **Thrawn13: thanks! (is nico this savage, was his threat really that memorable? wtf i thought it was a terribly trashy pun) glad to see you enjoyed :)**

 _ **ch 11:**_

 **Thrawn13: thanks for adding this story to your community, it means a lot to me; also, let's just say i didn't just kill bianca "because canon." details, details ;)**

 **DiAngelo646: no spoilers, all shall be seen eventually...you shall have to wait and see what happens next ;)**

 **Guest: nice connection, but again, all shall be seen eventually!**

 **a-halfblood-with-attitude: thank you for the compliments, i'm glad my present tense use didn't turn you off haha. here's your update, hope you enjoyed :)**

 **hana-liatris: this chapter, i think, clarifies things a bit, but things will definitely be more clear in later chapters so stick with me!**


	13. Chapter 13

**a/n: wow, we have.** _ **three.**_ **chapters. left. they'll be a lot shorter than normal but there's a lot of plot progression, so just please deal with these short chapters. this is about 600 - 1000 words off my usual 1800 - 2300 mark.**

 **i'm so happy to be this far in this story! and thanks to everyone who stuck by it.**

 **reviewer responses are at the bottom :)**

. . .

Bianca exhales, and asks, "Really? Nico, last time you left me...you left me to die…" There's such pain in her voice, it almost breaks Nico's heart. The wounds he'd left still run deep in his sister — the sister he'd _abandoned._ Nico has to make it up to her, he has to make it better.

"I regret it, Bee," Nico responds sadly. "And this time, I'll make it better. I can make it better," he says resolutely. _He has to make it better._ He can't fail Bianca a second time. He had run the first time he lost her, but there will not be a second time to lose her. Nico will make sure of it.

Hazel looks at the family reunion of sorts with a stoic gaze. She lets Nico speak, but then she goes on to talk business. "Gaea is trying to resurrect her son, Alconeyus, to make him invisible...and eventually, he will wipe out every powered being in the universe who is not in his army; eventually, Gaea and her son will take the world. And that's why the hunters were after your family," Hazel explains to Nico. "They wanted to wipe you out and then use you. And that's why they kidnapped Will — but props —" she nods at him respectfully — "for burning your ties with those sun powers. That was a cool move."

Will nods, and Nico is a bit worried, but he doesn't say anything. Because, once again, now is not the time and Will can take care of himself as he's already proven.

"And what were the bodies for?" Jason asks. "Why the bodies, why the dead, why the resurrections?"

"Temporary tasks...such as kidnapping Hera from the Agency, although with luck Special Agents Valdez and McLean were able to free her," Bianca continues. "Gaea's the boss of the operation. She and her husband, Tartarus, are looking to take the world. No one's actually seen them, but they run it quietly from the very tips of the organization."

"And the bodies were dumped," Will confirms, "after they were done with?"

"Nobody misses a dead man," Hazel admits. "And it's actually a sound policy, really…"

"With the armies of the dead, we can disassemble his body. It's all metal and oil, but bones are stronger. Bones heal." Nico smirks. "But I'll need your help. Will, when bones break —"

"— I can heal them," his boyfriend replies, beaming. "That's why I want to be a surgeon. I want to use my power for good."

"Nico, Bianca," commands Hazel, "We'll need to make the army strong."

"Jason," Nico says. "I'm not exactly sure how you can help. But if something comes up —"

"You got it, boss." Jason nods.

Nico raises his hand and spurs forth the armies of the undead. They move in sync, at his command, and power thrums at his fingertips as he marvels at the sheer synchronization of the army, the way they move at the same time, putting their toes forward without missing any beats.

 _I did that._

"Where to?" asks Nico, and Bianca points a finger to her right in the general direction of where they should go. Nico can't believe he hadn't noticed it before, but perhaps he gets a pass there since he'd just discovered that his dead sister is actually alive; the room's quite big anyway.

The marble grows blacker, and there seems to be some kind of a dark, opaque liquid seeping out of whichever container it was — hopefully — originally stored in. Nico presses on, and at the very end of the room one of the largest parts of it, sequestered in a corner, is a statue, swirling and tall, made of gold, silver, and other metals, piled on top of each other neatly, alternating between different shining, winking metals: oil pours out of the structure, dripping onto the floor.

"What's that?" whispers Nico.

"Alconeyus," Hazel returns, voice a little bit shaky. "I — I can control metal," she reveals. "I made him."

Nico stares up at the figure, craning his neck higher to look at Hazel's creation. It's pretty, the handiwork, masterfully done. The precise rows come together to form something like a body but not quite.

"You're supposed to give it life force?" Nico breathes.

Hazel nods. "I — they made me. I didn't —"

Nico doesn't let her continue. "It's okay," he assures her. He nods with approval. "It looks good. Wonderful work."

Hazel smiles, clearly glad that Nico isn't repulsed by what she's done. And perhaps if she'd turned out to be actually evil, he might be, but the power is so very marvelous and used by one with such a good heart — one he's misconstrued — that it's hard not to look at it in awe. It's a mesmerizing idea to think _she_ did all of it, to think she had the earth in her hands and could manipulate it at one point. It feels unreal, unearthly, ethereal — _marvelous._

Nico points a finger at the statue. He can feel the army buzz to life beneath him, controlled by _just one finger_ — so little, so powerful, _so much_ — and, enjoying the thrill of the sheer _power_ pulsating beneath him, he commands breezily, "Disassemble it. Break it. _Kill it._ " With an iron gaze, he sets his eyes on the figure, and the army walks in its synchronized manner to follow his orders, some of the more spry climbing up the tower — if it could be called that — and finally, one skeleton at the bottom grasps a gold bar — not even a bar, really: something akin to it, but not quite shapen enough to be one — and pries it out of its position. Nico smiles as the skeleton throws it onto the ground as oil begins to spurt out of the new hole drafted in the structure.

More holes begin popping up and more skeletons are in need of healing; Will is the one they turn to here, and it's a lot of work, tiring, but Will manages, blazing his light upon the skeletons, who turn good as new. Nico and Bianca reanimate them, and Jason spares them the energy by using his winds to move them to the tower. Hazel's powers are a bit of a help in breaking the tower, but she doesn't have enough power to deconstruct it entirely — this is where the skeletons come in.

It's tedious work, and there's a lot of it to do. They push through, with their winds and their skeletons, their light, and the power, the _power._ Piece by piece, they work together, in harmony, the melody to it the _clink-clink_ of falling metal — piece by piece, Alconeyus is dismantled.

He is going to die before he begins his life.

Suddenly, Nico hears footsteps at the head of the room. Running in are two figures: the unmistakable blond heads of Octavian and Bryce Lawrence. Lawrence's green eyes are narrowed viciously, but amusement shines in them, and his upturned nose turns up even more, pleasurably, as if satisfied that there will be someone to fight here. Octavian sports his signature smirk, malice glinting in his icy eyes, and he whips out a knife from seemingly nowhere.

"Well, look who it is!" he cries upon the sight of Nico. His smile is wide, mad, insane. "You've come looking for a _fight!_ "

"If you've come for a fight, well, we're obliged to give you one," agrees Lawrence. Then all polite pretense falls off his face, and his smile turns into a sneer. "Just know — you're not the only ones with powers."

He raises his arms, summoning a few zombies and skeletons of his own — they rise up out of the ground with resounding _clicks,_ and Lawrence's army stands, awaiting their orders.

Lawrence demands his soldiers — "Fight the interlopers."

. . .

 **reviewer responses:**

 **ch. 12 —**

 **DiAngelo646: suspected that twist? things are a lot clearer now, i hope :)**

 **Guest: thanks for the compliments, i'm quite proud of this climax as well, if i do say so myself. i've changed a few things in this AU, but don't worry, all shall be explained, although i'm saving that one for the epilogue. stay tuned ;)**

 **Thrawn13: glad to hear you liked it! i was excited for this one too, it just flopped onto the pages and had a mind of its own (even if it was really short, aha)**


	14. Chapter 14

**a/n: this is the last. official. chapter. then it's the epilogue.**

 **i'm so in awe of this. thanks to everyone who's read :)**

 **reviewer responses at the bottom.**

. . .

The addition of Bryce Lawrence and Octavian to the fray is not very good news for their team of fighters. This means that there are more distractions from the dismantling of Alconeyus, more distractions from the army's task at hand, and more energy expended on the wasteful fighting.

Nico is not fond of this new development. But he raises a hand and dispatches ten skeletons — they are all he will spare for now — to deal with Lawrence, Octavian, and his followers. They assemble themselves, and he steers them toward the fight.

Nico dodges attacks from skeletons and humans alike with a lithe ease, slipping his slender frame up and away from incoming strikes. He multitasks, directing his skeletons whilst moving, and he draws a knife from his boot, slashing out at skeletons and dismantling their bones; he finds Octavian in the mess of bodies and slices a gash onto his pale face, which quickly begins to ooze blood.

Will, Nico notes, is all over the place. He heals his own sustained injuries, the skeletons, and he shoots light at invading skeletons and into Bryce and Octavian's faces occasionally. Nico isn't sure how Will hasn't keeled over yet, but it's good, although he probably won't last much longer.

He can't worry about Will, though. His boyfriend can take care of himself.

Jason shoots wind gusts into their faces — they've got a tactical advantage in this area, but it doesn't really work out very well, because _damn,_ they can fight, and _crap,_ Octavian is practically psychic, almost _predicting_ moves coming his way.

Most of the skeletons do their job, hacking away at Alconeyus, but more and more of them are drawn away to fight the hordes created by Lawrence. Nico curses under his breath, but he moves on, flicking his knife and cutting the head off of a particularly persistent skeleton created by Lawrence.

Bianca and Hazel prove to be near invincible. They've been trained by the same people that trained Octavian and Lawrence, and they weave their way through the crowds, almost invisible, striking with guerilla-esque attacks that damage the forces of Lawrence when they occur.

"I'm not afraid of death," says Bianca. "I'm already dead."

It pains Nico to hear the words but he knows they're true. Bianca will have to leave, return to the dead, if they succeed. She has been resurrected, and it would be hard for her to stay.

But somehow, he allows himself to hope. What if she can stay? What if she does? They have a chance at rebuilding their lives, a chance to be happy with one another once more.

Jason looks at Nico with a little sympathy but says nothing, only getting out his hidden coin-sword, courtesy Agency, and he throws himself into the throngs of the fight. Nico can see his sword flying through the air, precise movements hacking away at skeletons. Hazel raises a hand and claims some fallen skeletons for her own little small army, taking the task force off to disassemble the oil figure.

Hazel suddenly spots Octavian: Nico can see it in the sudden gleam appearing in her golden eyes, locking on their target. She leaps out at him, and out of nowhere there's a knife in her hands. She socks him in his weak spots, kicks flying out at him wildly but still accurately, and her knife slits at his body, hitting him unexpectedly in the chest. Blood pours out of his new wound, and now he's weakened, but he throws a slash at her of his own.

But before he can, the clear-cut sound of oil gushing and a _clink_ of metal interrupts him.

An ambitious skeleton has unearthed the last piece of Alconeyus. He's — gone. Dismantled. The oil has all pooled to the floor, and there's a bit of a scream emanating from the earth. Nico isn't sure if he's imagined it or not, but the ground seems to vibrate and a high-pitched sound comes out of it, so perhaps it is a scream. Suddenly, the earth shakes violently, spinning Nico's senses, but the feeling subsides soon and so does the shaking, a moment later.

The scene in front of him shows Lawrence and Octavian done for. He's got the larger army, has dismantled Alconeyus, and overall Nico's team has more morale and manpower than theirs.

They're gone.

Nico smirks. He looks at the two with vindication and a kind of otherworldly _rage,_ because they've been terrorizing him this entire year, they may have had a hand in taking his boyfriend away from him, and they're just so overall horrible, have done such terrible things that Nico can't look at them anymore without thinking _Useless._

He waves a hand, opening a fissure in the ground: a vortex, brown earth spinning and swirling inside it, and the skeletons are sucked into it, going back to where they belong, almost like a vacuum, cleaning up his mess and leaving the place neat and tidy.

Nico looks at Lawrence and Octavian, at their pitiful faces and existences, and at their sneering lips that spewed such insults at him —

The borders of the fissure grow wider, just enough to suck in two bodies. Lawrence looks down fearfully, eyes widening, and he opens his mouth in a silent protest, but it is too late. He falls in before he gets the chance to say a word. Octavian watches him in wonder, and then a moment later, he too falls into the pit.

Nico's anger flares, and maybe he should not have done this, but for everything Lawrence and Octavian and their organization has done to him and his friends and his family, he believes they deserve it. It's what they get for siding with Gaea.

Hazel watches in silence, her gold eyes unreadable and stoic in the face of the darkness emitted by the fissure. Her face is shadowy, and he cannot see what she is thinking.

"Nico —" Will gasps. The sheer astonishment in his voice grounds Nico and opens him up to the consequences of his deed. Perhaps Will is fearful, and perhaps he should be, because _Oh, wait._ Nico just killed someone and he barely feels anything about it in the moment, he _is_ a terrible person and he _just killed two teenagers_.

"They tore everything apart. They were prepared to tear the world apart," Nico tells him simply. He tries to tell Will that he shouldn't fear him, but the words can't come out. He can't come up with a reason why he shouldn't.

"I don't deny that wasn't a bad move, but it wasn't a good one either," says Will matter-of-factly. Nico is surprised to find no fear in his shining blue eyes. Just shock. Will is not afraid of him. Perhaps he is ashamed, but he is not fearful, and Nico thinks with force that _He should be..._

"I'm not a good person, Will. I left my own sister to die."

"Shut up, Nico," Jason argues. "We slacked a bit, but you were the most dedicated person to this whole thing, you worked through the mystery and the mint chip, and no bad person would've done that."

Bianca chimes in, "And you made up for it, Neeks. You did. And I can tell that you love Will. And that you love me, and you love Hazel…so with that, knowing you're good, I'm ready. I'm ready to go," she breathes, as if she has just come to the revelation and that it is a freeing one.

She opens up her own fissure in the ground, twisting and swirling, dark, just like Nico's, and before Nico can do anything to stop her —

" _Bianca, no!_ "

. . .

 **reviewer responses:**

 **celestial vivacity: i'm glad you enjoyed it, and i'm glad i was able to get you in love with my solangelo! i know how much you don't like them and it honors me that my version was good enough for you :')**

 **Thrawn13: yes, i feel like the teamwork is one of the best parts. the original plan for this story didn't have much of a team dynamic in this, but i loved jason so much i added more of him than i intended lol. thanks :)**


	15. Epilogue

**a/n: so here we are. the epilogue.**

 **i started this back in...december? november? and we've come fifteen chapters since then, and we've come through a new year with this, and i'm so proud of this fic. i'm so proud of all the time i put into this and the time when i almost quit but i didn't. so i'd like to thank everyone who encouraged me, everyone who read, reviewed, faved, and followed. i see every one of you, and i don't usually respond to reviews but i did read them all and i was super encouraged by them. reviews are love and a bit of encouragement and i don't think you guys know how much of your comments gave me muse. so if you stuck by this story, just thank you. you're why i'm still here writing this author's note. you encouraged me with everything to keep going.**

 **so thank you all. for staying with me at my best and my worst. for staying with this fic at its best and its worst.**

 **this is going to be my last pjo fic for a while. i have one in the works with dee and di but it's very much preliminary and i am not sure if we're ever going to get towards publishing it. so again i'd like to thank you all for making it a wonderful ride and keeping it positive for the last stuff i'm doing on this fandom's archives.**

 **just a tiny request: if you read this chapter, please review your overall thoughts on the story. what you liked about it (major plot points) and what you didn't (major stuff.) i'd really appreciate some feedback for any future multichapter writing that i do :)**

 **reviewer responses are at the bottom.**

 **this is the end. thanks for a wonderful journey.**

— **victoria**

. . .

It gets better, after that.

Hazel relays her story. She's from the forties; after her mother died at the hands of Gaea's hunters for having _gris-gris_ powers, Gaea took her into her army, and made her work to create her son again.

Nico finishes his school year. He grieves for Bianca. But he knows he couldn't have done anything to stop her. Bianca was always like that — when she set her mind to something, she didn't stop until she accomplished it.

He learns to accept it, and find new family.

Nico convinces Will and Hazel to join the Agency. They bring Frank, Cecil, Lou Ellen, Austin, and Kayla with them.

"We all have powers — well, except Cecil, but he's a tactician," Will tells him.

"What he means is, I'm useful in the way that I'm good at screwing things up," explains Cecil.

And there's a family in his old one: Jason and Piper and Leo and Percy and Annabeth. They're all here with each other. There's something about that that makes Nico's heart go all fuzzy inside.

He finds a little more family than expected in Hazel. Her father turns out to be a man with powers like hers, Hades' twin — apparently there'd been a mix-up at birth. Pluto had turned out alright but had divorced Marie Levesque very early into their marriage.

There's still the rest of it, though.

The killing: that had been a split-of-the-moment decision. And Nico regrets it. He regrets taking the lives of those two kids now that he thinks back on it. Who's he to decide who lives and who doesn't?

Will helps him out of the worst of it, but there are some parts he has to let go of himself.

But Will is that light that never goes out. It can dim, but it stays on; it can flicker but eventually it will light again.

And maybe that's why Nico decides to do it.

Will and Nico have been dating for a long time when he proposes. It's been years since that dance, but there's a flower in Will's item locker that day, and he's smiling all the way until lunch. That's when Nico gives him another flower, a red rose — there's a ring inside it, of course — and asks, "William Solace — _will_ you marry me?"

"You're so corny, Nico." Will laughs, but there are happy tears in his eyes. "Yes, you dork. Of course, _yes._ "

. . .

 **reviewer responses:**

 **Thrawn13: thank you! and yes, i think it is a bit rushed, but it's fast-paced and very much the end. thanks for sticking with this story, you're so consistent and it's really made a lot of my days :)**

 **readingisapriority x2: i was a bit reluctant to kill alabaster, but it was a necessary plot point :(**

 **and thank you for the compliments! i know i'm a bit evil for killing her. but the muse wants what it wants aha**


End file.
